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George Mogridge- 



MEMOIR 



OLD HUMPHREY 



WITH 



^kuniitp fxmx \n "^axMw, 



IN PROSE AND VERSE. 



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IPaJ^dpljiHt 



AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION, 

No. 316 CHESTNUT STREET. 

NEW YORK No. 147 NASSAU ST. 

BOSTON- No. 9 CORNHILL CINCINNATI: 41 WEST FOURTH ST. 

LOUISVILLE: No. 103 FOURTH ST. 



/^ss- 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, hy the 

AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION, 

in the Clerk^s Office of the District Court of the Eastern District of 

Pennsylvania. 



4®= No hools are published by the American Sunday-School Union 
without the sanction of the Committee of Publication, consisting of four- 
teen members, from the following denominations of Christians, viz. Bap- 
tist, Methodist, Congregational, Episcopal, Presbyterian, Lutheran, and 
Reformed Dutch . Not more than three of the members can be of ^he same 
denomination, and no book can be published to which any member of the 
Committee shall object. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

I. Early Life '. 9 

II. Enters on a Literary Career 23 

III. Assumes the Name of " Old Humphrey" 43 

IV. Old Humphrey as a Tourist ^ 64 

V. Old Humphrey in Domestic and Social Life 75 

VI. Last Days of Old Humphrey 114 

^z fodfolb. 

The Old Man on the Ridgy Point 144 

Hallelujah! 149 

The Loss of Children 154 

A New Carol for Christmas Day 162 

A Leaf from the Book of Affliction 165 

The Sunny Sabbath 172 

Old Humphrey at Hastings 179 

The Night-Season 186 

7 



8 CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Is there a God? 190 

How do you get on? 192 

The Wreck..... 198 

What are your Points? 202 

Old Humphrey on Birthdays 207 

Old Humphrey to his Honoured Ancient, on her 

Ninetieth Bii-thday 216 

Old Humphrey on Mitigations 218 

Do you know how much you are worth? 224 

Anticipation of Heaven 232 

The Blackberry-Gatherer 233 

Sweet and Soothing 237 

Moody Minds and Sunny Spirits 243 

Haste to the Cross 248 



MEMOIE 



''OLD- HUMPHREY/' 



CHAPTER I. 

EARLY LIFE. 



There is a natural desire in the mind to become 
acquainted witli those who have instructed and 
delighted us by their writings ; and the feeling of 
curiosity is the stronger when a mysterious disguise 
has been thrown over their persons and social posi- 
tion. Many have been the inquiries, " Who is Old 
Humphrey?'' and not a few have been the inge- 
nious devices to penetrate the vail which he had 
modestly drawn around him. While living, there 
were reasons why he should have been unknown ; 
but now that he has laid down his pen and passed 
from scenes of useful labour, the vail may be raised, 
that those who admired his cheerful and godly 
counsels may be permitted to cherish the memory 
of his name with affectionate respect. There is 



10 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



also a duty to the sacred cause of religion when a 
good man dies — one who has exercised a powerful 
influence over the feelings and sentiments of thou- 
sands — to present some record, however brief, of 
the fruits of the gracious operation of the Holy 
Spirit in him, as manifested by his life and labours. 
That service of Christian friendship we now attempt 
to discharge. 



^&" 



When this covering is withdrawn, ^'Old Hum- 
phrey" appears in the person of Mr. George 
MoGRiDGE, a native of Ashted, one of the suburbs 
of the town of Birmingham, England. He was 
born on the 17th of February, 1787. His grand- 
father, the Rev. Anthony Mogridge, was vicar of 
Kimbolton, Worcestershire; his father was exten- 
sively engaged as a canal agent — a profitable business 
in former times, in which he was very successful. 
His parents appear to have been estimable pers-ons, 
of decidedly religious character, whose consistent 
example and afi'ectionate conduct were ever held in 
grateful remembrance by their son. The home- 
scenes of his childhood were recalled in after life 
with pious satisfaction. In advancing age he thus 
gave expression to the power of a mother's piety : — 

My mother taught my infant tongue — 

A tear was in her eye — 
To lisp in prayer, with holy things, 

The name of the Most High ; 



EARLY LIFE. 11 



To pray that G-od would make me fit 

To go to heaven — and smiled : 
I i)ut up now the very prayer 

She taught me when a child. 

The approving smiles of his father and mother were 
given to his earliest attempts at literary composi- 
tion, which was not without an influence on his 
future progress. 

The first rudiments of his education were re- 
ceived at a village school. At the age of five, he 
left home for a boarding establishment. In a brief 
autobiographical sketch he left behind him, he thus 
refers to this period of his life : " The school was 
in the small village of Boarcote, about a mile from 
Bromsgrove. Tradition says the name was given to 
the place on account of a huge wild boar that hid 
himself in the woods there, ravaging the country 
around. How this may be, I know not ; the wildest 
boar that I ever saw in the place was my schoolmas- 
ter, a man of uncultivated mind and ungovernable 
temper. I am doing no injustice to his memory in 
representing him as one of little knowledge, strong 
prejudices, and unreasonable severity. So strangely, 
on one occasion, did his violence operate on my 
mind, that, smarting with the indignity of being 
smitten with his fist, I ran away from school, a 
course of conduct which I afterwards bitterly la- 
mented. Yet, regarding my old master through 
the softening influence of years, I have some aff'ec- 



12 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



tion for liim in my heart. My schoolmistress, whose 
tender, gentle, and persuasive voice even now grate- 
fully returns on my memory, used to give us kind 
and Christian counsel, though she herself had re- 
ceived even less education than her austere hus- 
band." In another paper his reminiscences of the 
master are referred to. "The celestial and ter- 
restrial globes are of necessity associated in my 
thoughts with a frowning face, an angry voice, and 
a clenched fist ; and the Latin grammar and a long- 
lashed hunting-whip are inseparably interwoven in 
my remembrance. He who has no other assistance 
in perfecting himself in his amo, amas, than that 
of a hunting-whip, may possibly retain the little he 
learns; but he is not likely greatly to love his 
Latin, or greatly to reverence the memory of his 
master." It is hoped that this schoolmaster is now 
only to be regarded as a specimen of an extinct 
genus, and that the days of the clenched fist and 
the riding-whip have departed forever. 

In contrast with the severity of the principal, 
was the gentleness of a tutor in the school, toward 
whom the susceptible boy felt the strongest attach- 
ment, and of whom he thus writes : "His frame was 
so delicately strung, that any violent emotion made 
him tremble from head to foot. He was learned, 
pious, and kind; but neither his piety, his kind- 
ness, nor his learning, could defend him, when ex- 
cited, from a high state of nervousness. Hardly 



EARLY LIFE. 13 



would a fit of the palsy have affected liirn more 
visibly than any altercation with another. I re- 
member him with much affection, for the many acts 
of kindness he performed towards me.^' 

The affection of young George Mogridge for one 
of his school-fellows was almost romantic. This 
youth was the son of a merchant, high-spirited, of 
good abilities, and very daring. They read toge- 
ther books of adventure, became heroes in many 
boyish enterprises, and exerted a mutual influence 
on each other's conduct. This early associate after- 
wards resided for some time in Surinam, and then in 
Newfoundland. The vessel in which he set sail from 
the latter place for England, not being sea-worthy, 
was never heard of after she left the port. Mr. Mo- 
gridge, when in the decline of life, remarked that 
though he was able distinctly to call to memory the 
names, persons, and dispositions of more than three- 
score of his school-fellows, he was not aware that one 
of them had reached his own age : then, with his 
characteristic piety, he added : " Had I no other 
monitor to remind me of the long-suffering of my 
heavenly Father, surely this would put the words 
into my mouth, 'Who am I, Lord God, and 
what is my house, that thou hast brought me 
hitherto ?' '' 

At the age of fourteen he was placed as an ap- 
prentice to the business of a japanner. He well 

remembered his father encouraging him before he 
2 



14 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



went to the employment, by telling him that it was 
a kind of work in which he might engage with 
white ruffles on his wrists, without rumpling them, 
or soiling his fingers — a state of things, it is hardly 
necessary to say, he did not realize. 

The thoughts and aspirations of the youth soon 
soared above the ordinary engagements of trade. 
His father being a subscriber to the Birmingham 
General Library, the son had the opportunity of 
gratifying his eager desire after knowledge ; and a 
natural taste for poetry became confirmed by the 
perusal of some of the best English poets. Chaucer 
and the illustrious Spenser were especial favourites; 
and his brother was wont playfully to charge him 
with wearing out his copy of the '' Faerie Queene," 
from its being carried in his pocket. His early 
fondness for old ballads and tales of chivalry is de- 
scribed in some lines which he penned in after 
life:— 

And did the magic of romantic lays 

Seduce the leisure of my earlier days ? 

Did fancy spread her varied charms around, 

And leave me wandering o'er enchanted ground ? 

Oh yes ! and oft these transitory toys 

Have flung a sunbeam on my passing joys. 

And has the midnight taper wasted been 

In pondering legend hoar and fairy scene ? 

Have idle fictions o'er my fancy stole, 

And superstition's tale beguiled my soul ? 

They have ; and, spell'd by their mysterious power, 

Has roll'd away full many a rosy hour. 



EARLY LIFE. 15 



Farewell, ye tales of terror, that control 
In mystic bonds the passions of the soul; 
Ye fabled haunts, where fays and genii dwell, 
And all ye legendary themes, farewell : 
Your fleeting joys I freely now resign; 
For ever let the Book of Truth be mine. 

During the term of his apprenticeship, young 
Mogridge employed his brief intervals of leisure in 
writing both prose and verse. His first appearance 
in print was in a local newspaper; the piece con- 
sisted of an address on the occasion of raising a 
statue to the memory of Lord Nelson. 

Another juvenile effusion was an inscription for a 
charity-box of the Infirmary, placed in the public 
room of the Talbot Hotel, Shrewsbury : — 

If thine the power to succour the distress'd, 

And this appeal should meet thy wandering eye, 

In pity, stranger, let it melt thy breast, 
To do some gentle deed of charity. 

If thou hast known the terrors of distress ; 

If thou hast felt the pangs of want and pain; 
Oh, let not worldly thrift the sigh suppress. 

Nor want implore, nor misery beg, in vain. 

E'en though no crowd admiring shall descry, 
Nor flattering tongue reveal the deed obscure, 

It shall not pass unheeded by that Eye 

Which beams around the treasury of the poor. 

Encouraged by his early attempts to secure the 
public notice, he soon became a contributor to 



16 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



several of the periodicals of the day. He was a 
regular, though gratuitous, correspondent to Acker- 
man's '^Poetical Magazine)" and its editor was pro- 
fuse in his acknowledgments for his disinterested 
aid. He also contributed to several of Mr. Houl- 
ston's publications. As he was known to this 
worthy bookseller, and cherished much respect for 
him, he found considerable gratification in being 
permitted to give such literary assistance as he was 
able. Other pieces were sent anonymously to 
various periodicals and public journals. For three 
years the busy youth kept up, for the perusal of his 
friends, a manuscript magazine, " The Local Mis- 
cellany,'' every line in each monthly number, both 
of prose and verse, being supplied by his pen, with 
etched illustrations. Nor was his vanity a little 
aroused when he knew that the revered and phi- 
lanthropic Wilberforce had carried in his pocket one 
of these numbers for nearly a fortnight. When a 
little further advanced into manhood, he assumed 
and supported, for a considerable time, in a public 
journal, the character of an old man, entering so 
familiarly into the local occurrences of the neigh- 
bourhood for nearly half a century, that no one sus- 
pected that the head of the writer was uncovered 
with gray hairs. Thus, unconsciously, was he 
pluming his wings for other flights, and qualifying 
himself for more arduous undertakings. 

An acquaintance with Pratt, author of "The 



EARLY LIFE. 17 



Gleaner" and numerous other works, and occasional 
interviews with Hutton^ the antiquarian, Dr. Mavor, 
and Dr. Adam Clarke, increased his inclination for 
reading, and stimulated him in his efforts at compo- 
sition ; and every interval of time was diligently se- 
cured for the exercise of his pen. 

In after life, Mr. Mogridge referred with peculiar 
satisfaction to some of the persons of distinction 
whom he saw in his early days. Among others were 
Lord Nelson and Mr. Wilberforce. A sight of the 
one arm and melancholy face of the former awakened 
sentiments of deep compassion for him who had at- 
tained to the highest pinnacle of human glory. His 
reminiscence of Mr. Wilberforce may be given in 
his own words. " In this chequered state of being, 
our brightest remembrances are often associated with 
shadows. Though so many years have rolled away 
since I set off with a friend to obtain for the first 
time in my life a glance at the philanthropist Wil- 
berforce, I have neither forgotten my enthusiastic 
emotions, nor the untoward circumstance which so 
sadly interfered with my pleasure. Understanding 
that Wilberforce was expected to attend divine 
service at a village church, at some ten or twelve 
miles distance, I could not resist my impatience to 
see him ; and in good time my friend and I were on 
our way to the village. When near the place, we 
called on a farmer, who described to us his pew at 

the church, where he said he hoped we should oc- 

2* 



18 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



cup J sittings. We were early ; my friend went to 
anotlier part of the cliurch^.but I proceeded to tlie 
farmer's pew. 

^' While sitting in anxious expectation of the 
entrance of the philanthropist^ the pew was entered 
by a gentleman of somewhat haughty demeanor, 
who resided near, on a large estate. After regarding 
me for a little time, he inquired if I were a clergy- 
man, and on my answering in the negative, he told 
me that he could not answer for there being room 
enough in the seat to accommodate me and his 
friends. I told him that though I certainly was a 
stranger, the owner of the pew had requested me to 
occupy a sitting there, and the clerk had conducted 
me to it. He replied that on ordinary occasions 
there would be room, but that he then required the 
pew for his friends. Thus circumstanced, I, to my 
extreme mortification, left the pew and entered the 
adjoining one. 

^^ What poor, proud creatures we are ! It was 
pride on the part of the gentleman that occasioned 
his churlishness ; for not knowing who I might be, 
he could not brook my sitting with so great a man 
as himself. And it was pride on my part that made 
me so keenly susceptible of what ought not to have 
affected me. Had we both attended the sanctuary 
with humble hearts, hungering and thirsting after 
spiritual good, we should have behaved in a very 
different manner. 



EARLY LIFE. . 19 



'' After all, there were but four persons in the pew 
I had quitted, though there was room enough for 
more than double the number ; and my hat, which 
I had left on the seat, occupied the sitting abandoned 
by me. I thought, when after the service I re- 
quested the gentleman to favour me with my hat, 
that he looked not a little ashamed. I saw Wilber- 
force, certainly, but a cloud was on my spirit, and 
my enjoyment was lessened. There is a passage in 
God's holy word which says, ^Be not forgetful to 
entertain strangers:' Heb. xiii. 1. But this passage 
had not been regarded. Pride sadly militates 
against our peace. 

" The last time I saw him who at the church had 
wounded my pride, he was stepping out of his car- 
riage-and-four; and some time after, when giving 
directions to his work-people, who were felling tim- 
ber, a large tree fell on him and crushed him, and 
occasioned his death. Though he was taken, I am 
still left. ^Lord, make me to know mine end, and 
the measure of my days, what it is, that I may know 
how frail I am. Behold, thou hast made my days as 
an hand-breadth ; and mine age is as nothing before 
thee : verily every man at his best state is altogether 
vanity :' Ps. xxxix. 4, 5." 

On completing his articles of apprenticeship, Mr. 
Mogridge married Miss Elizabeth Bloomer, whom 
he had known from early youth. This union, which 
had the promise of much happiness, was not per- 



!0 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



mitted to be of long continuance; for, after well 
sustaining the part of an affectionate wife and an 
exemplary mother, she was called from the world at 
an early age. Her course was that of a Christian, 
and her end was peace. The bereaved husband re- 
mained a widower for a few years, and then again 
married. His second wife was Miss Mary Eids- 
dale. As the companion of the larger portion of his 
life, this lady rendered the most efficient service to 
her husband in his literary engagements. Scarcely 
a volume that he issued but was transcribed and 
prepared by her hand for the press. It has been 
her mournful satisfaction to minister to the comfort 
of her endeared husband in his seasons of sorrow, 
and to solace him in his passage through the closing 
hours of life. 

When about twenty-four years of age, Mr. Mo- 
gridge entered into partnership with his elder bro- 
ther as a japanner; and so long as the latter re- 
mained in the firm it was prosperous ; but after a 
time he retired in possession of a good property. 
The younger brother continued the business, but he 
confessed he had no aptitude for it. Too many ob- 
jects occupied his attention. He devoted too much 
time, for a young tradesman, to the public, as an 
overseer, guardian, and commissioner. His gene- 
rous feelings prompted him to give far too liberally — 
it may be said indeed improvidently — to every case 
which had the semblance of distress; and he de- 



EARLY LIFE. 21 



voted to books and literature the hours which might, 
probably, have been better employed in the more 
active duties of life. The result was an abandon- 
ment of his position as a tradesman, with the entire 
loss of all his property. In reviewing this part of 
his history, he once observed : " I look back on this 
period of my life with keen regret. To be deprived 
of luxuries and limited in comforts is comparatively 
a light affliction ; but to bear humiliation and self- 
reproach, and still more to be undervalued and cen- 
sured by those who were before prodigal in praise, 
is a heavy burden to bear. I drank to the very 
dregs the bitter cup of calamity, for I found but 
little kindness, and much severity. The kindness I 
did experience is graven on my heart.'' It is not 
to be inferred from this language of self-condemna- 
tion that his moral character or commercial honour 
were compromised by an unfortunate issue to busi- 
ness. He was unsuccessful, but his uprightness 
and integrity were unimpeachable. His naturally 
keen susceptibilities and high sense of probity would 
incline him to scrutinize his conduct with much 
severity, when others might see little to censure or 
condemn. 

With a nature so sensitive, Mr. Mogridge felt 
keenly the withdrawal of the friendship of many 
who had professed much regard for him in days of 
his prosperity; nor was he less affected by the un- 
impaired confidence and tried faithfulness which 



22 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



were manifested by a few in tliis time of trouble. 
When, in after life, lie had recovered, by his labour 
and talent, an influential position in society, he re- 
ferred to the conduct of his friends in the following 
poetical allegory : — 

THE STORM. 

A ship was stemming the ocean-tide, 
And oh, how gallantly did she ride ! 
A storm came on — it was sad to see 
How she roll'd a wreck on the fathomless sea. 

Her mariners left her, one by one, 

In that season of peril, almost alone ; 

But a few there were who endured the blast, 

And succour'd her in her distress to the last. 

She righted again, and she braved the tide, 
And oh, how gallantly did she ride ! 
It was strange to see, when she stemm'd the main, 
How her mariners all came back again ! 

While ocean winds her canvass swell, 

That ship of the terrible storm shall tell ; 

And her log-book the names of the crew shall bear 

Who abandoned her not in her hour of despair. 

The path of Mr. Mogridge's life was now for 
a time overshadowed. He was called to consider 
whether he should retrace his steps and set out 
afresh in the business of a manufacturer, or enter 
on other engagements which might give the promise 
of support, and which were more in harmony with 
his natural talent and tastes. 



ENTERS ON A LITERARY CAREER. 2B 



CHAPTEK II. 

ENTERS ON A LITERARY CAREER. 

It lias been said that fewer authors are made by 
choice than by necessity ; nor does the example of 
Mr. Mogridge militate against the general correctness 
of the observation. He was not altogether insen- 
sible to the fact that no enojasrements are more 
fraught with anxiety and disappointment, or are 
more liable to failure, than those of a professional 
writer for the press. Yet with this conviction on 
his mind, he resolved to engage in literature as a 
source of profit. It was a bold step for one who had 
hitherto only employed his pen, as a recreation, in 
such light compositions as might fill a column in a 
magazine. He seems, however, to have had some 
confidence in his own powers, though not a single 
friend at the time encouraged him in his purpose. 
Looking from our present point of view, we can see 
much to justify the resolve ; but at that time the 
qualities of his heart, and his peculiar mental power, 
had been but partially developed. The devout mind 
will not fail, in his case, to recognise in his decision 
the leadings of divine Providence; for whatever was 
the result on his comfort and pecuniary advantage, 



24 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



it undoubtedly promoted tlie entertainment and im- 
provement of thousands of readers. 

In launching on the wide ocean of literature, our 
author was dependent on any favourable current he 
might meet, rather than on any fixed course. 
Without long waiting to weigh the probabilities of 
success, and under the influence of strong feelings, 
and relying more on tact than talent, he pushed 
forth on those deeps whereon so many have made 
shipwreck. 

There were some points in his favour. In early 
life Mr. Mogridge had imbibed an ardent and deep- 
rooted love for natural scenery. The grand and 
beautiful in creation can scarcely foil to arrest the 
eye of even incurious spectators; but there are 
minds of lively temperament which are powerfully 
aifected by the display of infinite goodness and 
power in the natural world. When Legh Rich- 
mond visited Loch Lomond, he gazed intently on 
the landscape, and hushed his restless companions 
with the sentence, ^' The eye is not satisfied with 
seeing." On the same spot. Dr. Chalmers ex- 
claimed, in rapture, ^^ I wonder if there will be a 
Loch Lomond in heaven!" Dr. Caesar Malan at 
the sight knelt down and prayed; and the mis- 
sionary Macdonald wrote of it in his diary, '' Oh I 
how sweet and tranquil was the bosom of the lake ! 
I thought of the peace of God that passeth all un- 
derstanding." With similar feelings of devotion 



ENTERS ON A LITERARY CAREER. 25 



and wonder, Mr. Mogridge beheld such a goodly 
prospect. Overcome at the sight, he involuntarily 
fell on his knees with a fervour of feeling that was 
painful to him, and prayed that God in his goodness 
would either subdue his emotions, or give him the 
greater ability to sustain the enjoyment of them. 
In one of those impromptu pieces of rhyme of which 
so many are left behind him unpublished, he refers 
to the pleasures he found in natural objects: — 

A pleasant thing it is to stray 

Beneath a sunny sky, 
Where flowery fields their charms display, 

And brooks run bubbling by; 
To sit with leafy bowers o'erhung, 

And read in grateful mood, 
While heart, and mind, and eye, and tongue, 

Confess that God is good. 

The observation of character is a source of much 
interest to many; with Mr. Mogridge it was a culti- 
vated habit. In those around him he found some- 
thing to admire, or to disapprove, to imitate, or to 
avoid. He could scarcely fail to take an intelligent 
view of men and things as they passed before his 
eyes. " Every man," he once observed, ^' has a 
picture-gallery of his own, in which are hung the 
likenesses of those he has known. These likenesses 
are dependent on the point of view whence they 
were taken, and on the character of the mind 
in whose memory they are retained. A portrait de- 
pends almost as much on the painter as on the face 



26 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



of him wliose likeness it represents ; and if it be 
thus with sketches taken by the pencil, it is still 
more so with sketches of the pen.'' This habit en- 
abled him to present those delineations of character 
in the Old Humphrey Papers which are evidently 
taken from life. 

His frequent perambulations and love of adventure 
brought him into contact with difierent interesting 
characters, whose peculiarities he was not slow to 
discern, though he was ever careful not to allow an 
ill-natured criticism to escape his pen. He was also 
fond of intercourse with those whose stores of wis- 
dom could enrich his mind, and whose reminiscences 
could supply topics for profitable conversation. 
^' From the time of my early boyhood,'' he observed, 
" I have had the habit of keeping my eyes and ears 
open to the busy world about me; and for many 
years it has been my custom to keep a common- 
place book of passing thoughts and occurrences. 
Oh, what a strange medley of matter does it contain ! 
Sometimes my remarks have been made hastily, as 
sudden impulses have called them forth ; at other 
times, they have been written down with greater re- 
flection and care." 

A habit of frequently reviewing the past ma- 
terially aided in turning to practical account this 
faculty of observation. A tenacious memory, too, 
held as in a treasury the varied incidents of life as 
they had come under his eye, and supplied him with 



ENTERS ON A LITERARY CAREER. 27 



abundant illustration to enforce a moral or adorn a 
tale. His imagination was active and speculative 
on scenes as they arose to his view. In one of his 
rhyming moods, he thus notices the workings of thl« 
latter faculty : — 

Yet deem I not the high-wrought bliss 

Of fancy's thrilling reign, — 
Her thousand ardent hopes and fears, — 

Romantic, light, or vain. 
Without these sparkling gems of thought. 

The human heart would be, 
At times, a desert far more drear 

Than thine, dread Araby. 

Many have mistaken the fervour of i^oetic feeling 
for poetic talent. It is not, then, a matter of sur- 
prise, that, after revelling in the natural and earnest 
thoughts of Wordsworth, or the glowing strains of 
Montgomery, or the rich imagery and quaint subli- 
mities of the early poets, that they should have been 
sufficiently carried away to believe that they could 
produce stanzas which would become, to some extent, 
also popular. The subject of our memoir had long 
felt the inspiration of poetry; it was, therefore, to be 
supposed that he would first direct his attention to 
this line of authorship. Accordingly, he submitted 
a few pieces, as specimens of an extended series, to 
the editor of the "Literary G-azette," who freely 
expressed his approbation, but required that he 
should have in his possession the whole of the 
papers before he published any, on the ground that 



28 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



authors were too mucli in the habit of beginning 
with power and ending with weakness. 

Among his earliest works was a book of epitaphs, 
published under the title of ''The Churchyard 
Lyrist," It is hoped it answered the purpose of the 
publisher better than it did that of the author. 
The price agreed on for the copyright was fifty 
pounds, but as it was to be received in copies, and 
as Mr. Mogridge gave three-fourths of the books 
away, his pocket was thereby but very little re- 
plenished. Like all other people, authors have to 
pay for their experience ; and he who sets any value 
on his time, and is solicitous to add to his pecuniary 
resources, had better occupy himself in a more 
promising subject than verses for tombstones. The 
design of this volume was to give a greater variety 
of original epitaphs than had hitherto appeared. It 
was the writer's opinion that "the churchyard is a 
volume whose admonitions are sought when the 
heart is best prepared to receive them/' and hence 
the importance that inscriptions for the grave, when 
they do not consist of texts from Scripture, should 
be in harmony with its doctrines and precepts. 

It is rather remarkable that an animated and 
lively mind should seek recreation among old yew- 
trees, green hillocks, and sculptured urns. Yet 
these had their attractions to Mr. Mogridge, and to 
his frequent musings among such mournful objects 
are we indebted for his first useful book. "I litie 



ENTERS ON A LITERARY CAREER. 29 



not," lie has been known to say, "to see a trodden- 
down grave, believing, as I do, that burial-grounds 
have, or ought to have, an influence on the tone 
and morals of society. A churchyard is a volume 
where the wisest of us may learn a lesson of profit- 
able instruction ; and a mind duly impressed by re- 
flection on the dead will rarely indulge in bitter- 
ness towards the living. Pleasant is it to look on 
the memorials of affection that decorate the graves 
of the people of Wales. I want no aff"ectation of 
sorrow, no unnecessary exhibition of grief, to mark 
the last resting-place of humanity; but I do love to 
see the grass-green sod look as though the mortals 
mouldering below were not forgotten." 

A few specimens from this work may not be 
without interest : — 

ON A YOUNG FEMALE. 

She is gone to the land where the care-worn and 
weary 

Enjoy the sweet rapture of sacred repose ; 
She has quitted forever this wilderness dreary, 

And bid a long farewell to time and its woes. 

While on earth she was loved, and we deeply deplore 

her: 

But ah ! shall a murmur escape from our breast ■? 

Do you ask how she lived? She set heaven before 

her. 

Do you ask how she died? In the faith of the 

bless'd. 

3« 



30 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



ON A PIOUS SAILOR. 



Doom'd o'er the watery waste to roam, 
Full oft he braved the tempest's strife, 

Till his Redeemer call'd him home, 
And he was shipwreck'd into life. 



ON" A HUMBLE-MINDED CHRISTIAN. 

A lowly follower of the Lord above : 

While here on earth, his soul on heaven was bent ; 

His words were kindness, and his deeds were love, 
His spirit humble, and his life well spent : 
These, then, and not this stone, shall be his monu- 
ment. 



THE GRAVE S APPEAL. 

Art thou young, and wouldst thou live 
In peace that God alone can give, 
Conquering every worldly lust? 
Watch, and praj/, and seek, and trust 

Art thou old, and wouldst thou die 
A servant of the Lord on high ? 
Wouldst thou reign among the just? 
Watch, and pray, and seek, and trust. 

Old and young, and rich and poor, 
Sinner, Death is at the door. 
All are hastening to the dust ; 
Watch, and pray, and seek, and trust. 



ENTERS ON A LITERARY CAREER. 31 



THE WARNING VOICE. 

In every stage of life is given 

A warning voice : it comes from heaven. 

In childhood's hour it breathes around — • 

^^The fairest fioicers are faded found." 

In youth it whispers as a friend — 

*'■ Reflect upon thy latter end.'' 

In manhood louder swells the cry — 

^'Remember thou art horn to die." 

In age it thunders on the blast — 

*' Oh man ! thy earthly years are past." 

In joy and grief, in ease and care, 

In every stage, " Prepare, prepare I" 



ON A CHRISTIAN. 

Well may we weep, proud minions of an hour, 
'Mid mouldering marble and decaying rhymes, 

That earthly grandeur has so little power 
To hand her greatness down to future times. 

Though gorgeous pyramids in ruin lie, 

The Christian's hope, uninjured, still remains ; 

His faith is firm : his record is on high : 

His monument the heaven of heavens contains. 

From the time when Milton hawked his immor- 
tal poem, " Paradise Lost/' among the booksellers, 
for five pounds, to the present day, many a young 
author has struggled hard to secure an introduction 
to the public. It may, therefore, be supposed that 



32 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



Mr. Mogridge, unknown to fame and without pa- 
tronage, had to encounter not a few difficulties and 
disappointments. 

One manuscript offered by him to a bookseller was 
detained nearly three months before it was declined. 
With another he was equally unsuccessful ; for, after 
he had walked a distance of fifty miles (ten miles five 
times over) to inquire of its success, he found that 
the paper had not been opened. In a third instance, 
a bookseller returned to him, in an unsealed packet, 
by an apprentice lad, his manuscript and letter, with 
the verbal message, " Declined. '' In a fourth, a 
publisher, to whom he had offered a small manu- 
script for ten pounds, placed it flat on his counter, 
and measuring it with his hand, said, with a conse- 
quential air, that he had bought manuscripts double 
the height for five. 

A new periodical about this time appeared under 
the name of " The Cornet,^' and Mr. Mogridge sent 
a contribution. Soon after, he was surprised to see 
placarded on the walls an announcement in which 
this contribution figured as the most attractive part 
of the advertisement. Flattered by his apparent 
success, he wrote another piece, well calculated, in 
the writer's opinion, to add lustre to the bright and 
eccentric stranger, " The Comet." With some im- 
patience he waited till the day when the second 
number of the work was to appear, when he found 
that the office of the magazine was shut up, and 



ENTERS ON A LITERARY CAREER. 33 



his sparkling contribution was never made visible to 
the public eye. 

These misadventures gave a serious turn to his 
thoughts, and brought him into association with 
enterprises of a more decidedly religious character 
than he at first contemplated. He felt the necessity 
of applying in quarters where greater reliance could 
be plciced, and he was devoutly grateful to find that 
he was being led to services which were in accord- 
ance with the best wishes of his heart. 

The first engagement of Mr, Mogridge as a tract 
writer was with a respectable bookseller, Mr. Houl- 
ston, who undertook to issue a limited number of 
pieces, which were to be ready for publication at 
stated intervals. His feelings on entering on this 
service are expressed in a memorandum made at 
the time in a small account-book : — " Mistrusting my 
own perseverance, yet, with a humble and confiding 
dependence on that Almighty Being who gave me 
the faculties I possess, and who can alone enable me 
rightly to use them, I enter on my. literary under- 
taking, imploring the Giver of all good things that, 
while I thereby add to my own interest, and the 
comfort of those dear to me, I may contribute to 
the benefit of others, and extend the glory of my 
God. I purpose forwarding for publication one 
tract per week; and that I may do so, intend to 
enter in this book the date on which each piece is 
forwarded.'' 



34 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



The qualifications of Mr. Mogridge as a writer 
of popular tracts in verse had been already tested 
in one of the first-fruits of his pen — " Thomas 
Brown; or, a Dialogue on Sunday Morning.'"^ 
The origin and history of this widely-spread and 
influential little production will be best related by 
its author. 

"It must be now (1849) about thirty-three 
years ago since a respected relative of mine was 
engaged, during the leisure of an active life, in 
a series of literary undertakings, all intended to 
arrest the progress of vice and promote the cause 
of virtue. One of these was to set aside, as far 
as possible, the immoral songs that were vended 
in an adjoining manufacturing town; and in this 
project I joined. To buy up the faulty publica- 
tions, and to write and print others of a less objec- 
tionable kind, was the adopted course, but it did 
not succeed. When the printer found that his cus- 
tomers would have the faulty songs, he failed not 
to supply them. It was his apparent interest to do 
so ; but it is never a man's real interest to do evil. 
'If Balak,' said the prophet Balaam, 'would give 
me his house full of silver and gold, I cannot go 
beyond the commandment of the Lord :' Numb. 
xxiv. 13. 



* For thirty years past in the Catalogue of the Amerieiui 
Sunday-school Union. 



ENTERS ON A LITERARY CAREER. 35 



^^Now and then, even at this remote period of 
time, I find among my papers some of tlie poetical 
products of my pen, in furtherance of the laudable 
end we had in view; but perhaps the less I say 
about their poetical merit the better. They cer- 
tainly were not ' inscribed with immortality/ 

" It was at the time of these literary undertak- 
ings that my worthy relative handed me a rough 
sketch, in a kind of poetical prose, of a dialogue 
which he thought might be made useful to the 
working people on the farm attached to the mansion 
where he resided. From this rough sketch I wrote 
the tract, ' Thomas Brown,' with the simple object 
in view already stated ; and though since then 

My brow by time bas graven been, 
And gray hairs on my head are seen, 

it seems but as yesterday when the report was made 
to me of the effect produced by my poor doggerel 
verses on the rustic throng for whose benefit they 
were composed. The sing-song stanzas, and the 
plain tale they told, were just suited to the taste 
and comprehension of the simple-minded country 
people, who were caught at once while listening to 
the artless history of the sabbath-breaker. No 
sooner were the words read, 

'Where have you been wandering about, Thomas Brown, 

In your jacket so out of repair V 
'A ramble I've been o'er the meadows so green. 

And I work in the jacket I wear,' — 



36 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



than a general expression of interest and pleasure 
lighted up their faces. Never was a more attentive 
auditory. With breathless attention they drank in, 
with greedy ears, the words of the reader, until 
Thomas Brown was represented as attending the 
village church. The description that followed won 
every heart. 

"Again and again, on different evenings, was 
^Thomas Brown' read to the rustic throng, who 
listened with undiminished interest. One of them, 
I think it was Betty, the housemaid, committed the 
whole piece to memory; and a farm-servant declared 
that ^the man must have a rare yeadpiece (head- 
piece) that writ ^Thomas Brown.'' 

"Soon after this the dialogue appeared in print 
in different editions. A young friend, a printer, 
applied for and obtained permission to publish it. 
The late Dr. Booker, if I am not misinforn^, had 
an edition printed for his own circulation. 

"When 'Thomas Brown' was first printed, I felt 
heartily ashamed; having persuaded myself that I 
had some aptitude for poetry, the homely composi- 
tion of the dialogue humbled me. So long as it re- 
mained written only, and was regarded as an off- 
hand production addressed to a few country-people, 
it did not offend me; but when it came forth 
publicly, I shrank from the humiliation of being 
considered its author. Many a time in company, 
with a blushing face, have I smarted under the 



ENTERS ON A LITERARY CAREER. 37 



galling lash of complimentary remarks addressed to 
me as the author of 'Thomas Brown/ 

" Among the admirers of this tract was a friend, 
who took a lively interest in spreading it as widely 
as he could; and many a packet of the dialogue ac- 
companied the merchandise he sent to different 
parts of the world. ' Thomas Brown ' made its ap- 
pearance in Van Diemen's Land at an early period 
of its history ; and I cannot but think that to the 
exertions of the friend alluded to, both at home and 
abroad, much of the popularity of the tract may 
fairly be ascribed. 

" ' Thomas Brown' used to be familiarly chanted 
in the streets of London. Here and there, two 
persons gave life and variety to the recitation; 
while, in other instances, the whole weight of the 
piece was sustained by a single individual. One 
man was so constantly engaged in reciting the tract, 
that he seemed to have no other occupation. A re- 
spected friend of mine used often to joke me on 
this circumstance. ' I have met with your friend, 
Thomas Brown,' he would say, 'and I really think 
that you ought to allow him a pension for his good 
services.^ 

''The tract on which I have said so much has 
afforded pleasure to thousands; what amount of 
profit it has imparted is only known to Him who 
knoweth all things. It may be self-love that 
whispers in my ear the soothing conviction that 



88 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



some of my readers will value it none the less when 
they know that it fell from the pen of Old Hum- 
phrey. Such as it is, it will be influencing the 
thoughts, the words, and the deeds of many, when 
its author is no more. How truly may it be said 
that from a small seed a great harvest of good or 
evil may arise ! Well may we be cautious of what 
we write or speak. Evil words may be as thorns in 
many sides, while words 'fitly spoken are as apples 
of gold in pictures (or baskets) of silver.' 

While round us hours and years unceasing roll, 
A word may warp, or warn, or win, a soul." 

The want of success by Mr. Mogridge in obtain- 
ing an acceptance of his prose compositions among 
the booksellers, induced him to employ his pen 
again in the kind of metrical tracts which had 
already proved so adapted to the popular taste. In 
a short period, three papers were written and sent to 
the Religious Tract Society, under the signature of 
X. Y. Z. A communication soon informed him 
that two of them had been approved and accepted 
by the Committee; that if he preferred to retain 
his anonymous position, a suitable compensation 
should be forwarded to him, but suggested, as more 
desirable, a call at the Society's rooms. There was 
a kindliness of expression and friendliness of spirit 
in the letter which favourably impressed him, so 
that, though he had resolved to remain unknown, 



ENTERS ON A LITERARY CAREER. 39 



lie altered his resolution, and availed himself of the 
invitation. 

An interview took place in the Society's rooms 
between Mr. Mogridge, Mr. Lloyd, the editorial 
superintendent, and Mr. Jones, the secretary. On 
the entrance of the former, his eye glanced around 
as if under the influence of momentary trepidation ; 
but on being requested to be seated, he recovered 
his usually quiet self-possession, and entered into 
conversation with that bland and agreeable air 
which was so characteristic of his manner. He was 
informed that his tracts had received the cordial 
approval of the Committee, and that they warranted 
the hope that he would become a regular contribu- 
tor to the. Society's publications. With much 
modesty, he expressed his doubts how far he should 
be able to meet the expectations they so favourably 
entertained; that his habit was to write on any 
object that casually met his eye, whether a tree, a 
flower, or a landscape, and he feared that the 
buoyancy and flow of his thoughts were unsuited to 
the force and sobriety required in religious tracts. 
But after a free and friendly conversation, he said 
he was encouraged by their kind commendation, and 
would supply them with other manuscripts, trusting 
they would prove equally acceptable with those 
already adopted. 

If this interview made an agreeable impression 
on the officers of the Institution, it did not less 



40 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



favourably affect the mind of Mr. Mogridge. In a 
memorandum he has left behind him, he thus 
notices the circumstance and its results. " I called 
at the Religious Tract Society, and had a pleasant 
interview with Mr. Lloyd, little imagining that my 
connection with him, and that Institution in whose 
transactions he performed so important a part, 
would continue so long as it has done. It is well to 
look back to the ways in which we have been led, 
and gratefully to acknowledge the Almighty hand 
which has sustained our steps. Of my frequent 
meetings and communications with Mr. Lloyd I 
cannot speak too freely nor too thankfully. It was 
really a holiday to have an appointment with him. 
While walking out together, his love of nature and 
kindly feeling for the young and old were fully 
manifested; and when seated together within doors 
at our manifold manuscripts, there was in him a 
sunny cheerfulness that relieved the ennui of 
literary labour, a liberality that called forth a desire 
to be liberal in return, and a tenderness and delicacy 
on shadowy points that much endeared him to me. 
I shall go to 'the place appointed for all living,^ and 
he will be 'gathered to his fathers,' yet will the 
record live, when the hand that is now making it is 
motionless, that I felt deeply his debtor. To him I 
submitted my plans, and, with the able assistance of 
his sound judgment and experience, carried out the 
various works proceeding from my pen which have 



ENTERS ON A LITERARY CAREER. 41 



been published by tbe Society. He wbo has written 
a buudred books must have much to lament, or 
much for which to be grateful. If he have written 
ill, what cause has he for grief ! And if well, what 
thankfulness is due to his heavenly Father V 

A fair prospect of a literary engagement, in a con- 
nection that was consonant with his moral and reli- 
gious feelings, at once raised the hopes of Mr, Mo- 
gridge, and prompted him to write such works as 
were adapted to the objects of the Society. And as 
he felt he had a freedom and aptitude in expressing 
his thoughts in verse, in a flowing and striking 
style, he turned his attention to the preparation of 
tracts and small books in the metrical form. Among 
those issued at different times may be mentioned — 

Honest Jack, the Sailor. 
The Sabbath-Breaker Reclaimed ; or, Tho- 
mas Brown. 
The Two Widows. 

^' Ten Thousand Bright Guineas oe Gold." 
The Infidel Blacksmith. 
Harriet Bell, the Cottage Maid. 
William Ball, the Cottage Youth. 
John Tomkins, the Dram-drinker.* 
^' There is no Time to Spare." 

^' Oh, if I WERE THE SqUIRE."* 

A Picture of Popery. 

* Published by the American-sunday School Union. 
4* 



4:2 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



The following little books for children were also 
written in verse, and sent forth from time to time : — 

Village Characters. 

Sarah Bell and Fanny Blake.* 

Something Wanted. 

The Holiday Exhibition. 

The Miller ; or, How Long will it Last ? 

The Sea. 

Alphabet of GtOOD and Bad Hearts. 

Tales in Rhyme for Boys. 

Tales in Rhyme for Girls. 

The plainness and originality of style of the fore- 
going tracts and books, with the author's easy mode 
of expressing important truth in simple rhymes, 
were well suited to the tastes and capacities of the 
labouring classes, whether old or young, among 
whom they soon obtained the stamp of popularity, 
which they have retained to the present day. They 
have been perused in the drawing-room with pleasure 
and profit, while they have conveyed instruction to 
the cottager, the mechanic, the sailor, the soldier, 
and the poor man's child. They are known wher- 
ever the English language is spoken. 

* Published by the American Sunday-school Union. 



ASSUMES THE NAME OF " OLD HUMPHREY." 43 



CHAPTER III. 

ASSUMES THE NAME OE ''OLD HUMPHREY.'^ 

A NEW sphere for the exercise of the talent of Mr. 
Mogridge was presented when the Religious Tract 
Society commenced, in 1833, its periodical, the 
" Weekly Visitor." On being invited to become a 
contributor, and to suggest any special department 
of the work he might wish to engage in, it occurred 
to him that articles on a variety of familiar topics, 
treated in a popular manner, would suit his pen, 
and be acceptable to the public. After further re- 
flection, the signature " Old Humphrey" occurred 
to his mind as in keeping with the character and 
design of the proposed series of papers. Under a 
title so homely and peculiar, he thought he could 
the more readily find his way to the hearts of his 
readers. At first, he regarded it as a pure fiction, 
simply to be used as a medium of conveying his 
thoughts on whatever incidents of a useful and 
amusing kind might come under his" notice; but 
when his readers began to regard it as the signature 
of a real personage, he was constrained, in some 
measure, to identify himself with it, and to become 
more circumspect in his narrations. 

The new engagement was entered on with great 



44 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



zeal and cordiality. '' The arrow," lie says, ^^ tliat 
strikes the mark efficiently, must have power to go 
beyond it ; and without some confidence in our own 
powers, we are not, in any undertaking, likely to 
succeed. I am sanguine enough to think I shall in- 
interest my readers in my observations and retrospec- 
tions. Barren and unlovely must be that rude and 
rugged land over which we could travel for fifty 
years without finding some object deserving regard, 
some fruit worth plucking, or some wild-flower 
worthy to be placed in our bosom. And blind must 
be the eye, and callous must be the heart, of him who, 
mingling as a man with his fellow pilgrims in this 
breathing world for more than half a century, has 
stored up nothing in his memory that would be 
interesting to describe. '^ 

The popularity of the " Old Humphrey" papers was 
evident from their first issue ; and they awakened 
not a little curiosity in their readers to know the 
name and locality of him who had adopted the ap- 
pellation. Is he an old man or a young man ? Is 
he single, married, or a widower? Does he write 
for pleasure or for pay ? Is he a resident in town 
or country ? . Can you obtain for " a constant reader" 
a copy of verses in his own handwriting ? or will he 
inscribe a few lines in a lady's album ? Will he 
favour " a well-wisher" with a copy of original 
verses for a charity bazaar ? Or will he write a 
hymn for an approaching Sunday-school anniver- 



ASSUMES THE NAME OF ^^OLD HUMPHREY." 45 



sary ? Such were the kind of appeals made to the 
officers of the Society to gratify curiosity^ or to 
advance the interests of benevolence. 

During the official tour of the Society's secretary 
and superintendent, Mr. William Jones, on behalf 
of the Institution, several friends suspected that he 
was the identical '^ old gentleman" who so freely, 
yet kindly, pointed out many interesting facts con- 
nected with the visits he paid to many of the at- 
tached friends of the Society. As the secretary oc- 
casionally supplied Mr. Mogridge with topics and 
incidents which had passed under his notice in his 
journeys, the persons concerned, when these mat- 
ters appeared in print, were not only pleasantly sur- 
prised, but saw in them, as they thought, corrobora- 
tive proofs of the authorship of the papers. It need 
scarcely be said, that Old Humphrey was never re- 
quested to refer to any circumstance of a private 
nature, or which could possibly wound the feelings 
of any person. 

The interest in the ^^ unknown" was not lessened 
when a paper was announced, entitled, "Who is 
Old Humphrey?" 

In one of these communications to " Old Hum- 
phrey," he was told that many friends were anxious 
that he should give a description of himself in on 'J 
of his articles. He readily complied. After some 
particulars of a negative kind, which playfully in- 
crease the curiosity of the inquirer without satisfy- 



46 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



ing it, showing tliat he was not absorbed in bis own 
importance, nor of an imperious and churlish tem- 
per, nor of a slandering tongue, nor without sympa- 
thy for the afflicted, nor of an epicurean taste, he 
proceeds : "If you see an elderly-looking man 
parting two passionate lads who are fighting; giving 
twopence to a poor girl who has by accident broken 
her jug, to make all right again; picking up a 
fallen child out of the dirt ; guiding a blind man 
carefully across the street ; or hesitating for a mo- 
ment whether an importunate beggar is an impostor 
or not, and then deciding in his favour : if you see 
such a one, so occupied, he is not unlikely to be Old 
Humphrey. 

^' If, in the house of God, either in a retired pew, 
or standing up among the poor people in the middle 
aisle, you see a stranger, a man of years, regarding 
the minister as a friend, listening to the words of 
eternal life with thankfulness, and gazing with a 
fixed eye on the preacher, while he describes the 
sufferings of the Saviour of sinners, many things in 
this world are more improbable than that he should 
be Old Humphrey. 

" If you ever observe a thoughtful person, some- 
what stricken in years, after talking with and put- 
ting something into the hands of a weary and 
meanly-dressed traveller, turning out of the turn- 
pike-road, and leaning over a gate to admire the 
glory of the setting sun ; or gazing on the tall ehn- 



ASSUMES THE NAME OF ^^OLD HUMPHREY." 47 



trees with an expression of admiration ; or follow- 
ing with his eyes the green-bodied dragon-fly, as it 
lightly skims over the surface of the rippling brook ; 
or sitting by the side of a ditch, poring with in- 
terest over a foxglove, a thistle, a daisy, a sere leaf, 
a lady-bird, ^ toad, frog, newt, nettle-top, or dande- 
lion/ if, ever and anon, he looks up, amidst his 
speculations, to the clear bright sky, with an ex- 
pression of reverence and thankfulness, you have 
very good grounds for supposing him to be Old 
Humphrey. 

'^ If, in any village churchyard, not more than 
twelve miles from London, you observe an old 
gentleman poring over a time-worn gravestone, 
stocking up the grass with the end of his walking- 
stick, to get at the date; if he muses over some 
lowly green hillock in the unfrequented part of the 
burial-ground longer than at the beautiful sarco- 
phagus or the costly mausoleum with the hatch- 
ment sculptured on its side, keep your eyes on him ; 
he is not half so likely to be the lord mayor of Lon- 
don, as he is to be Old Humphrey. 

^^If you meet an ancient man, with a kind- 
hearted countenance, who, as he passes a throng of 
playful boys, softly speaks, ' Bless you all, my little 
merry hearts ; may you be as free from sin as you 
are from sorrow !' or ejaculates, as a pale-faced wo- 
man, habited in black, with a crape bonnet on her 
head, moves on with a dejected air, 'May thy Maker 



48 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



be thy Husband, and thy mourning be turned into 
joy!' or who comforts a little orphan boy, patting 
him on the head, and speaking to him of a hea- 
venly Father, and quoting to him, ' When my father 
and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take 
me up;' follow him up closely, for it is ten to one 
but he will turn out to be Old Humphrey." 

The pieces to which this popular name was af- 
fixed appeared regularly in a fugitive form, and 
were subsequently collected into volumes. Of these, 
his '' Observations," "Addresses," "Thoughts for 
the Thoughtful," "Walks in London," "Country 
Strolls," "Pithy Papers," "Half Hours," and 
" Friendly Appeals," have been perused by de- 
lighted thousands, in almost every part of the world. 
In addition to these, ten smaller books, for children, 
are part of the "Old Humphrey" volumes. 

In forming an estimate of the papers that ap- 
peared with this signature, it is necessary to con- 
sider for whom, and for what purpose, they were 
written. It was to win the attention of the greatest 
number to subjects of the highest interest. Their 
apparent egotism and garrulity were in keeping with 
the character assumed. Without being profound, 
there was in them considerable knowledge of hu- 
man life and of the workings of the human heart. 
With singular tact, their author drew solid instruc- 
tion from the commonest incidents of every-day life. 
His shrewdness of observation and sound practical 



ASSUMES THE NAME OF "OLD HUMPHREY," 49 



wisdom gave point to the sentiments. A natural 
geniality of disposition imparted a fresli and ge- 
nerous tone to the thoughts : — 

"A man he seem'd of cheerful yesterdays I 

And confident to-morrows." 

Ardent in feeling, grateful, and disinterested, 
with a keen sense of the humorous and ridiculous, 
lie brought into play the sprightliness of his fancy 
and his habitual buoyancy of spirit, chastened and 
tempered with a habit of grave remark. Under the 
surface of a lively style there ran a flow of deep 
solemnity. He ever took a sunny and hopeful view 
of things as they rose before him; yet, however 
gay, he was never volatile, nor lost sight of the re- 
sponsibilities of authorship, or his character as a 
Christian. He instructed without wearying, and by 
touches of good-humour prepared the way for the 
reproof of a fault, or exposure of a vice, in a spirit 
of love and gentleness. 

There were some topics on which, in this series 
of papers, he delighted to exercise his pen, such as 
the use and abuse of wealth, the benefits of earthly 
trials, charity for the poor, kindness to animals, the 
horrors of war and the blessings of peace. Christian 
temper in the lesser things of life : in these and 
kindred themes he agreeably mingled the useful 
and the practical with spiritual truths of the high- 
est importance to man. Old Humphrey was not 
merely in his feigned character, but in reality, a 



50 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMrHREY. 



true lover of nature. The boundless beauty of 
creation feasted bis eyes and kindled almost ecstatic 
emotions in bis beart. A country laue, with chil- 
dren at play; a bedge-bank, witb its blossoms and 
butterflies; tbe rising or setting sun, casting its 
golden ligbt across tbe sky; or tbe rippling waves 
on tbe sea-sbore, filled bim witb deligbt, and often 
incited bim to tbrow bis thoughts and feelings into 
the shape in which they have been given to tbe 
world. To " rise from nature up to nature's God" 
was not an effort of the mind, but an instinct — an 
impulse. To bim there were — 

" tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 

Sermons in stones, and good in every thing." 

In tbe visits of Mr. Mogridge to various places, 
he occasionally found that tbe influence of " Old 
Humphrey" bad extended to quarters where be 
little expected to find it, and which he discovered 
in a way that encouraged and amused bim. At 
other times, it led to the formation of endeared 
friendships, which were maintained to tbe close 
of life. 

In tbe year 1847, during a visit to Edinburgh, 
be was enjoying a morning walk along the footpath 
leading to Arthur's Seat, when, as he turned aside 
to tbe left, to gaze on tbe ruins of St. Anthony's 
Chapel, be saw a lady and gentleman approach, ac- 
companied by one of the guide-boys. Both parties 
stood a while, beholding witb interest the venerable 



ASSUMES THE NAME OF ''OLD HUMPHREY." 51 



remains, when Mr. Mogridge politely asked permis- 
sion to put a question to tlie young guide, and then 
passed on his way. Again they met on higher 
ground, where from a projecting rock are unfolded 
to the view the deep blue waters of the Firth of 
Forth, Salisbury Craig, and Calton Hill, with the 
whole town of Edinburgh lying at the feet. Words 
of mutual delight were exchanged at the scenery 
around them, when Mr. Mogridge exclaimed, with a 
burst of joy, " It is not any one part I admire, but 
the beautiful whole : this grand mountain and the. 
vast prospect spread around charm me. When I 
gaze on them, my mind is led upward to their great 
Creator." The conversation was continued ; it was 
mutually felt that fellow-pilgrims to the heavenly 
city had been brought into company. As they 
spoke of creation, they rose into a contemplation of 
redemption, and then onward to a state of glory. 
In parting, the solitary traveller struck his cane on 
the ground with one hand, with the other stretched 
upward, and, with a heart full of intense emotions, 
said, '' Oh! I sometimes long to put off this mortal 
body, that I may go to heaven, and see Him as he 
is, and worship before him." 

The lady and gentleman had observed notices 
of a meeting to be held in Edinburgh, and that a 
deputation from America would attend it. They 
at once suspected that the aged stranger was a trans- 
atlantic visitor; and, following him a few paces, 



52 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



asked if tliey were right in their conjecture, to 
which he merely replied, ''No;" but after they had 
cordially shaken hands, he said, "You ask me if I 
am one of the deputation ; I do not preach, hut I 
am read by thousands : good-by." These words 
naturally increased a desire to know with whom 
they had been holding such friendly communica- 
tions. 

Again the gentleman met the stranger in the 
suburb of the city, strolling in search of the beauti- 
ful; after some agreeable conversation, it was found 
that he was none other than ''Old Humphrey." 
An intimacy ensued from this casual interchange of 
kindly and Christian sentiments, which led to an 
agreeable visit from Mr. Mogridge to the residence 
of the gentleman at Bath, and to a profitable cor- 
respondence, which lasted till death removed one of 
the parties to a better world. 

A worthy Christian family in a western suburb of 
London, to whom he had become known through 
his writings, also "showed him much kindness;" 
and to them his letters, characterized as they were 
by a cheerful, unaffected piety, were at all times 
welcome. One of his epistolary communications to 
a young lady of this household will not be unac- 
ceptable : — 

KiNGSLAND, May 1, 1845. 

"You have heard of that ancient and never-to-be- 
sufficiently-valued adage, 'Better late than never/ 



ASSUMES THE NAME OF " OLD HUMPHREY/' 53 



and I am now, I trust, supplying you with an 
instance of its correctness. Late, indeed, is this 
fulfilment of my promise to send you my name in 
my own hand-writing. If my inattention has 
proved that I do not possess the virtue of punctu- 
ality, let my present communication prove, also, 
that I do possess the virtue of shame for my trans- 
gression. 

" What more can erring boy or man 
Achieve, with all his powers, 
Than ask forgiveness for the past, 
And mend in future hours ? 

^'Were I to ask you the simple question, What 
have you thought of, spoken, and done, since we 
formed part of a family fold, with our kind-hearted 
and well-beloved shepherd at our head ? in the very 
precincts of a palace, you would not venture to tell 
uie. Well, then, I will forego questioning you as 
to your words and deeds, if you will only tell me all 
that you have thought of ! But no ; not you. Oh, 
what a budget of keepsakes and kid-gloves — of 
songs and sermons — of feathers and family affairs — 
of gayeties and gravities — of mourning weeds and 
wedding apparel — of faithful and faithless friends — 
of sadness and gladness — of light-hearted trifling 
and holy thoughts — of black and white, shine and 
shade, prose and poesy — of hopes and fears, broken 
intentions and resolute resolutions — in short, what a 
medley of small and great, vain and important, 

5* 



54 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



fading and eternal, has passed through your brain 
since we last met ! But has it been so with you 
only ? My heart feelingly pronounces an emphatic 
No. If, however, in all this chaos there be some 
order ; if, with all this shifting of the compass, the 
needle has tremblingly tried to point northerly — or 
rather to ^ the hills whence cometh our help '—let 
us be thankful. That verse — 

'Come, poor sinners, heavy laden, 

Bruised and mangled by the fall, 
If ye tarry till ye are better. 
Ye will never come at all,' — 

is beautiful; but its beauty consists less in its poetry 
than in its truth. What a mercy that, as our 
worthiness cannot save us, so neither can our un- 
worthiness sink us to perdition ! What a mercy it 
is, that in all our wanderings of heart, the door and 
the luay yet remain open ! 

^^I know not how it has been that I have thus 
insensibly glided into serious remarks, for I thought 
that I began in a light-hearted way. Well, and I 
feel light-hearted now; not a whit the less so be- 
cause 1 have mingled my commonplace thoughts 
with a reference to more important things," 

Among others to whom he became known in 
his character of Old Humphrey, was the late James 
Montgomery. His introductory letter to the poet 
was forwarded by the hand of a mutual friend : — 



ASSUMES THE NAME OF " OLD HUMPHREY." 55 



"My dear Sir: — For a less familiar commence- 
ment would but ill agree with the warmth of my 
affectionate respect and admiration, — Some time 

ago, Miss , of C Park, informed me that 

you had said of me, in a communication to her, 
' I know little of him, but his tales ; may he live 
long, and never leave off telling them/ For this 
friendly remark let me very heartily thank you. 

" It is almost thirty years since, being in Sheffield, 
I purchased a few volumes of poetry, (your's and 
Cowper's,) in furtherance of the hope of being en- 
abled to take you by the hand. This privilege I 
enjoyed; and since then, though familiar with your 
,mind and your muse, I have not personally seen you. 

^'If the amount of satisfaction derived by a 
reader from an author be the measure of his obliga- 
tion, then am I indeed your debtor; for few have 
been more interested, excited, and influenced, than 
myself, by your manifold, talented, and Christian- 
hearted productions. I am sure that they have 
made me wiser, I believe they have made me better, 
than I should have been without them. 

'' At my time of life, it is more befitting that I 
should put up a prayer for you, than praise you. 
Indeed, if praise were acceptable, you must, I 
should think, have received it almost to satiety. 

" I too with words of praise could ring the ohimeSj 
And blot a foolscap page with tinkling rhymes, 
If this poor pen of mine could thus impart 
The honest homage of a grateful heart; 



56 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



Grateful to tliee, my worldly joys among, 
For many a revel in transporting song, 
To see thee now in reverent age appear 
A Christian warrior resting on thy spear. 
That thou hast wielded well, in bloodless fight, 
For God and man, with majesty and might. 
Deign then, dear bard, in friendly mood to share 
My kindly thoughts, my blessing, and my prayer. 
No tyro I, in trouble's stormy strife ; 
No stripling in the battle-field of life : 
Like thee, far-travelled on my pilgrim way, 
I need repose. Like thine, my hairs are gray. 
Accept — alas ! in this poor world below 
How little can the warmest heart bestow ! — 
Accept this truth, deep, ardent, and sincere, 
In youth I loved thee, and in age revere." 

During the visits of Old Humplirey to Hastings, 
to recruit his health, he was accustomed to pay a 
morning visit to a hairdresser, not far from All- 
Saints church, to complete his morning toilet ] but 
during his last illness, when unable to walk to the 
shop, he was waited upon by the hairdresser. Dur- 
ing the usual operation, the worthy man would en- 
tertain his customer by recounting the news of the 
day, and other matters which he thought of im- 
portance to be known. ^^ I have lately been read- 
ing," said he, on one occasion, "a very interesting 
book. I can't read prosy works, but this one was 
quite to my taste; it is an excellent one. It is 
called ' Old Humphrey's Addresses.' " He then 
went on to expatiate on the merits of ^' The Top- 
pers," and other well-known pieces in the volume; 



ASSUMES THE NAME OF ^^OLD HUMPHREY/' 57 



concluding by expressing his regret that his little 
daughter^ who had borrowed it from her school 
library, was obliged to return it before he had com- 
pleted its perusal. Mr. Mogridge quietly enjoyed 
his friend's recital. It was just the kind of incident 
to bring out the natural amiability of his heart. A 
copy of the work was obtained in the town, and at 
the next interview Mr. Mogridge placed it in his 
hands, having previously recorded, in his own 
trembling penmanship, that it was " a gift from the 
author to Mr. ." The disconcerted and^ de- 
lighted hairdresser, on receiving the neat-looking 
volume, could scarcely believe that he had been un- 
wittingly extolling the book to its author's face — 
his own customer, too ! — and that the author's own 
hands had presented to him the valued work, to 
be kept as a memorial of a pious interest in his 
welfare. 

Equally pleasing proofs of the usefulness and 
popularity of his little books, also at various times 
came under his notice. Once, when passing through 
a crowded London street, Mr. Mogridge saw a man 
elevated on a chair, about to address a throng- 
around him. Curiosity led him, during a pause in 
the proceedings, to make his way almost up to the 
chair on which the orator stood, when, to his sur- 
prise and confusion, the man suddenly broke out, in 
a loud voice, looking at the startled author — 



58 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



"Where have you been wandering about, Thomas Brown, 
In your jacket so out of repair?" 

Old Humphrey would have gladly escaped^ to re- 
cover his self-possession and gravity, but he found 
himself encompassed by the people, who seemed to 
him looking directly in his face. " I felt/' he said, 
''almost as much ashamed as if I had been detected 
in inadvertently passing a bad shilling. '^ 

Among the tracts in verse, the one entitled 
" Ten Thousand Bright Guineas of Gold" has been 
foi^nd very acceptable. A gentleman laid a copy 
of it on his study table. An old friend called on 
him, who was rich in this world, but a stranger to 
the " unsearchable riches of Christ." Finding that 
the title attracted the interest of his moneyed friend, 
he proposed to read it to him ; this was done, and 
produced a visible impression on the rich man. He 
left the house, but could not forget the words he 
had heard. He became anxious about his soul ; at- 
tended the means of grace, searched the Scriptures, 
and prayed for heavenly guidance ; and there is 
good reason to conclude that he was led savingly to 
the knowledge of the divine Redeemer. 

Mr. Mogridge was very happy and effective in 
writing little children's books — published at a half- 
penny or a farthing each. Some of them are equal 
to any thing that came from his pen, and were not 
without evidence of the divine blessing resting 
upon them. A copy of one of them, entitled, " The 



ASSUMES THE NAME OF "OLD HUMPHREY." 59 



Cloud; or, Look beyond It/'* came into tlie hands 
of a worthy clergyman in Yorkshire, on Christmas 
day. He was at the time in a depressed state of 
mind, fearing that the labours of years had been in 
vain. He took up this small book, and was pleased 
with the recommendation contained in its title — 
"Look beyond the cloud." He read it, and its 
simple and pleasing advice cheered his mind, pre- 
pared him for the happy discharge of the duties of 
the day, and produced much subsequent comfort. 

A gentleman in London experienced a great dis- 
appointment, the effect of which was to throw him 
into such desponding views as to threaten the most 
fearful consequences. A friend enclosed in an en- 
velope the same book, " The Cloud," but without 
knowing the state of the gentleman's mind, and re- 
quested him to giVe it to his little boy. On going 
home, he opened the envelope to see the book it 
contained. He read it, and experienced such relief 
in his distress of mind, that he wrote a letter to the 
gentleman who sent it, expressing his thankfulness 
for the benefit which he had received. 

As the versatile pen of Old Humphrey necessi- 
tated that he should assume different characters, he 
wrote various volumes and children's books, for the 
Religious Tract Society, under other names. Hence 
he appeared as " Grrandfather Gregory,"* "Amos 

* Published by the American Sunday-school Union. 



60 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY 



Armfield/'* ^' Uncle Adam/^ ^'Old Antlionj/' 
'< Godfrey Gilbert/' "The Traveller/' "The En- 
courager/' and other aliases, too numerous to par- 
ticularize. When more suited to his purpose, he 
changed the masculine gender into the feminine^ 
and appeared as "Grandmamma Gilbert/' and 
"Aunt Upton." 

Several other books were prepared for the Societj^, 
of an entertaining and instructive kind: as, "The 
Boy's Week-day Book/' "Wanderings in the Isle 
of Wight/' " Loiterings among the Lakes/' "Calls 
of Usefulness/'* "The North American Indians/' 
"The Old Sea Captain/' "Footprints of Popery/' 
"The Country/' "Play House/' and a few more of 
a similar character. Nor must " Learning to 
Think/"^ ''Learning to Feel/'* "Learning to 
Act/'* and "Learning to Converse/' be omitted, as 
works alike useful and pleasing in their contents. 
The whole number of tracts and books added by 
Mr. Mogridge to the Society's catalogue amounts 
to one hundred and forty-six. A noble contribu- 
tion to the cause of truth and piety from one pen ! 

While engaged in promoting the objects of the 
Society, application was made by several respectable 
publishers to " Old Humphrey," for literary assist- 
ance, which he rendered without breaking his con- 



*■ Published by the American Sunday-school Union, as are 
also several others not here mentioned. 



ASSUMES THE NAME OF "OLD HUMPHREY.'^ 61 



nection with a Society that had become endeared to 
his heart. It was to him a great relief, and a source 
of much gratification, to be employed at the same 
time on works of different kinds, grave and gay, 
limited and of greater length, prose and poetry, — ver- 
satility in composition being one of his qualifications. 

"Truly," he observed towards the close of life, 
"mine has been a prolific pen; and though too 
often, and too legibly, haste, immaturity of thought, 
and other errors, have marked my productions, yet 
it is a source of consolation and thankfulness, in 
the prospect of leaving behind me the many works 
I have written, to know that I have so little cause for 
serious regret. Though not unmixed with meaner 
motives, glory to God and good-will to mankind have 
ever been my prevailing object and desire. My 
connection with the Religious Tract Society has 
been to me an important one in many respects, for 
it has supplied me with occupation, ministered to 
my comforts, withheld me from light and trifling 
pursuits, and constrained me to the consideration of 
eternal things. The committee of the Institution 
have ever treated me with respect and liberality, 
and its various officers with undeviating attention. '^ 

A few instances of the usefulness of his writings 
have been given : how many immortal souls have 
been warned, instructed, encouraged, and established 
in the faith, by the perusal of the tens of thousands 
of copies of his fugitive pieces, or little volumes, 



62 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



which have been scattered through the world, can 
never be known till that day when every man's 
work shall be tried, and seen in all its results, whe- 
ther for good or evil. If we know of a single case 
in which, by such means, a sinner has been turned 
from the error of his way, or a fainting believer has 
been strengthened in his course, we may cherish 
the hope that there are many more which have never 
been brought to light. Only the first-fruits are 
gathered now; the full harvest is reserved to the 
end of the world. 

'^A good book,'' says Milton, ^' is the precious 
life-blood of a master-spirit, embalmed and trea- 
sured up on purpose to a life beyond life.,'' It may 
teach for ages : succeeding generations of a family 
may gather from it knowledge and find in it recrea- 
tion. One of Luther's tracts, printed at Wittem- 
berg in 1545, was found a few years since in a 
German household in the back settlements of Ame- 
rica. It had been teaching for more than three 
hundred years. Who can estimate the effects of 
those few pages ? And it may yet do good for ages 
to come. Without overestimating the value of Old 
Humphrey's volumes and tracts, or assigning to 
them a vitality they do not possess, may it not be 
anticipated that they will comfort in decKning age 
those who are now young, and that their children's 
children may read them with pleasure and profit ? 

In the view of facts and probabilities like these, 



ASSUMES THE NAME OF ^^OLD HUMPHREY.'^ Qi 



how great are the responsibilities of authorship ! 
The poet Cowper, in writing to his friend, the Rev. 
John Newton, weightily remarks : ''An author by 
profession had need narrowly to watch his pen, lest 
a line should escape from it which, by possibility, 
may do mischief when he has been long dead and 
buried. What we have done, when we have written 
a book, will never be known till the day of judg- 
ment ; then the account will be liquidated, and all 
the good it has occasioned, and all the evil, will 
witness either for or against us.'' 

Scarcely less responsibility is laid on the readers. 
To them, books may become fountains of knowledge 
and sources of pleasure, or they may poison their 
principles and corrupt their moral and intellectual 
powers. How needful, then, is it to exercise care in 
the choice of the volumes they read, and to get from 
the good the instruction they were designed to im- 
part ! It is believed that the writings of Mr. 
Mogridge, whatever may be their literary merit, are 
free from all that would injure the mind, or debase 
the affections. They may, at least, serve as a re- 
laxation from more solid reading ; while they refresh 
the spirit and agreeably fill up a few hours of 
leisure. Young persons, especially, may by them 
be induced to turn from a class of authors whose 
works, however captivating in style, only serve to 
pervert the judgment and counteract religious 
impressions. 



64 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



CHAPTER IV. 

OLD HUMPHREY AS A TOURIST. 

Among the peculiarities which had no small in- 
fluence in forming the character of Mr. Mogridge, 
and qualifying him for his literary work, was his 
love of travel. Seven years of his early youth were 
spent in a beautiful country district as a school-boy. 
Here he imbibed an ardent and deep-rooted attach- 
ment to natural scenery. As he advanced in life, 
he sometimes visited the old city of Coventry, lin- 
gered in Warwick Castle by day, and in hoary 
Kenilworth by moonlight; musing, poetizing, and 
sketching, as fancy or inclination prevailed. A 
tour in Wales was undertaken, and Tintern, Llan- 
tony, and other venerable abbeys, were visited. He 
had passed along the old Roman wall, and, with 
hazel stick in hand, had freely rambled through 
Cumberland and Westmoreland, roaming along the 
banks of every lake the two counties contained. 
The romantic hills and dales of Derbyshire, and the 
lovely landscapes of other counties, became familiar 
to his sight. It was to him a luxury to feel a 
liberty-loving mood, leading him to roam abroad 
amid secluded scenery, to climb the heights and 
plunge into the depths, to ramble unrestrainedly 



OLD HUMPHREY AS A TOURIST. 65 



among objects of interest, to gaze on earth and sky, 
and to breathe freely the balmy breezes as they blew. 
For nearly thirty years he made all but an annual 
visit to Herefordshire, in which county some of his 
favourite haunts are found, as Lasket Lane, the 
Ford and the Ferry, Carey and Capler Woods, the 
Old Court House, and Fawley Court, These places 
were the scenes of some of his adventures, recorded 
by him in the Old Humphrey Papers. On one 
occasion he set off with a warm-hearted friend to 
the celebrated ruin of Stonehenge, in Wiltshire; 
from thence he made his way to Southampton, 
Portsmouth, Brighton, and other points of the 
southern coast. Localities connected with British 
history were to him especially attractive; hence, 
excursions were made to Hastings Castle, Bunny- 
mede, Torbay, Windsor, and other celebrated places. 
In reference to his solitary rambles, he tells us 
that he had a habit of musing among the shadowy 
nooks of quiet spots. Silence to him had a voice 
that cried aloud to the heart, and he gathered much 
where little met the eye — pearls of thought and 
costly gems of profitable reflection. 

"I never gazed upon the sky, 
But endless wonders met mine eye; 
Nor found on earth a place so bare • 

And destitute, but God was there." 

To his mind there were charms in the retired 
walks of a wide-spread park, in the lonely recesses 



66 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



of a wood, or among the moss-covered ruins of a 
monastery. He has been seen bending over the 
dark, deep waters of a pool, or wandering along the 
banks of an expansive lake. The shades of a quiet 
valley, or the rugged steeps of a mountain, would 
at times be peculiarly attractive. He found a well- 
spread feast in the wild berries of a wood, and a 
delicious draught in the runnino; stream. Amidst 
such scenes and objects, in peace and quietness, he 
traced the wisdom, power, and goodness of G-od in 
creation, called to mind the manifold mercies of 
Providence, and meditated on the wonders of re- 
deeming love. In these rambles, too, he cherished 
kindly feelings towards all mankind, and speculated 
hopefully on the future. 

After well visiting some of the most interesting- 
sites in his own land, Mr. Mogridge started, with a 
companion, on a walking excursion through a part 
of France. At the head of a note-book, in which 
he purposed to record his adventures, he made the 
following entry: "In this, and in all undertakings, 
I would commit my ways unto thee, Grod, my 
Creator and Redeemer. Direct thou my paths, 
and be with me and my companion. ^^ The passage 
to Dieppe was boisterous; but the raging of the 
stoftn seems only to have aroused his enthusiasm for 
the grand and terrible. He thus addressed the 
wide sea: — "Vast and illimitable ocean! How 
does the amplitude of thy power, and the infinitude 



OLD HUMPHREY AS A TOURIST. 61 



of tliy terror«, set forth the greatness of His might, 
and the terribleness of His majesty, whose whisper 
can hush thee to sleep and whose voice thou art 
swift to obey ! ^ Hitherto thou shalt come, but no 
further; and here shall thy proud waves be stayed.' 
Natural scenes, if not always lovely, are ever inte- 
resting, whether clothed with beauty or sublimity. 
Nature, I love thee ! and, 

" Whether I view thee in the lowly glen, 

Where vales recline, or where proud mountains rise ; 

What time the moon is gliding soft; or when 
The glorious sun, careering through the skies, 
Throws round creation his resplendent dyes; 

Or where wide ocean's endless wonders be; 
Still art thou beautiful to my rapt eyes : 

Thy mighty Maker in thy face I see, 

And sing His praises while I gaze on thee." 

Again, a few days after entering France, his 
journal furnishes us with an insight into his de- 
lighted feelings at the scenery which broke on his 
view: — ^'Soon after sunrise, I journeyed on to 
Forges, near to which a magnificent scene of great 
extent burst on my view. The sunlit sky and the 
beautiful scenery much excited me. It was a 
moment of intense enjoyment; a feeling of liberty, 
a pleasurable sense of novelty, and a strong emotion 
of thankfulness to the Giver of all good, came over 
me, and brought the tear-drops into my eyes. 
Something like this I have felt on the summit of 



68 MEiMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



Skiddaw, and when wandering among the romantic 
scenery of Derbyshire. I speak not of a mere ad- 
miration of natural objects alone, but also of a deep, 
reverential conviction of His goodness who has so 
profusely adorned even the temporary dwelling- 
place of man. Seasons of this kind are precious; 
there is more of the bliss of existence, more of the 
free outpouring of the heart to the Almighty 
maker of heaven and earth, crowded into the brief 
space of such a moment, than is to be found in a 
year of e very-day emotions.^' 

The costume of the Normandy peasantry was 
much admired : their primitive modes of agricul- 
ture, and their domestic and personal habits, came 
under his keen observation ; while the abbeys, 
castles, and other ancient buildings, were objects of 
a lively curiosity. 

The public edifices and gardens of Paris and Ver- 
sailles afi"orded to Mr. Mogridge abundant sources of 
gratification. On leaving the French metropolis, he 
set out for a walk of one hundred and seventy miles, 
passing through St. Denis, Moisselles, Beaumont, 
Abbeville, Nouvion, Montreuil, Boulogne, and 
Calais. In this ramble he found much that was 
interesting and pleasurable. Being free from re- 
straint, he wandered as his fancy prompted him ; at 
one time ruminating within the walls of a fortified 
town, and at others musing among the chateaux and 
beautiful prospects of the country. After a leisurely 



OLD HUMPHREY AS A TOURIST, 69 



excursion, lie returned home witli a stock of know- 
ledge that could be turned to practical account, and 
an increased affection for his native land, which he 
thus welcomed : — 

" Old England! I loved thee in childhood and youth, 
Thou homestead of honour, religion, and truth ; 
Thou land of the brave and the free : giving birth 
To the fairest, and boldest, and best of the earth. 

. Till reason, affection, and memory, depart, 

I will fling thee my blessing, dear home of my heart." 

Mr. Mogridge preferred to be a traveller of the 
pedestrian order, as affording more of personal ad- 
venture and better opportunity for admiring the 
works of God. "'Tis a pleasant thing," said he, 
"when you have health, and strength, and good 
spirits, to travel on foot. You can stop when you 
like, and turn round, and look at a prospect. You 
can call at a cottage, and talk to the old woman 
there as she goes on with her knitting, or loiter in 
the green lane, pulling down a brier and plucking 
the delicious blackberries. You can stand and 
breathe the fresh air as it comes over the blossomed 
bean-field, or gaze at the lambs at play in the. knolly 
pasture. You can creep into the copse and gather 
nuts from the hazel-trees, bunches of bright brown- 
shellers; or make a posy of the violets, the cow- 
slips, or the dancing daffodils. All these things 
you can do, and a hundred others ; and as you go 
on, and your bosom beats with happiness, you can 



70 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



sing of the cliviae goodness and mercy witli a 
cheerful heart." 

To an ardent and undaunted mind there was 
united an agile body, which admirably fitted him 
for the long pedestrian tours he undertook. In his 
youthful days he was swift of foot, and few of his 
companions could outstrip him in a race. His 
school-fellows gave him the name of " Grrey hound" 
for his speed, and that of ''Squirrel" for his skill 
in climbing. When he was in advanced life, a 
friend related to him, somewhat vauntingly, that he 
had recently walked thirty miles in one day, while 
journeying through Kent; when Mr. Mogridge 
quietly observed: "■ I have been in my time a good 
walker, too. I travelled in Wales, on foot, forty- 
two miles in one day ; but then it should be remem- 
bered that I had walked forty miles the day previous, 
and forty miles the day before that — one hundred 
and twenty-two miles in three days. But then," 
continued he, ''I like to travel across the country, 
not troubling myself about the roads ; and when I 
come to stiles and ditches, I can readily vault over 
them." The same undaunted and inquisitive spirit 
led him to descend the deepest mines and climb 
the loftiest hills ; to witness operations in surgery, 
to visit workhouses, hospitals, and lunatic asylums; 
and to be a general spectator of public sights in all 
parts of the kingdom. 

The love of travel distinguished Mr. Mogridge to 



OLD HUMPHREY AS A TOURIST. 71 



the last, although an injury to his ankle, in the 
latter years of his life, put a stop to his journeyings 
on foot. Previous, however, to this affliction, he 
visited the Isle of Wight, and wrote a work for the 
young, in his own graphic style, descriptive of this 
*^ garden of England,'^ with his wanderings through 
its length and breadth. This was followed by a tour 
to the Highlands of Scotland, and another visit to 
the lakes of Cumberland and Westmoreland. Of 
these excursions he has left the records in his pub- 
lished works. 

In these journeys he made acquaintance with 
numerous persons whose society he had sought, or 
into which he had been cast by the course of events. 
With some of these, the casual interview resulted 
in the endeared iuterc-ourse of friendship. Among 
those to whom he became known in his tours, was 
the poet-laureate, Wordsworth. When in the neigh- 
bourhood of Rydal Mount, he could not repress a 
desire to see the man whose writings had afforded 
him hours of enjoyment. Not with a feeling of 
idle and intrusive curiosity, but with a sense of deep 
respect and honour, he wrote rapidly a brief note, 
in which he enclosed his card, and forwarded it to 
Mr. Wordsworth: — 

"And I, too, (among the thousand and one 
strangers passing through this land of mountains 
and meres, who would enjoy the same privilege,) 
would fain see Wordsworth. My letters of intro- 



72 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



duction are a graven bow, a sprinkling of the gray 
on my laeadj a respectful and affectionate admira- 
tion of tlie author of the ' Excursion/ and a pledge 
that I will not rob him of more than five minutes 
of his valuable time. 

" The Builder of the mountains, 
The Maker of the meres, 
Go with thee, gifted man, and spread 
The sunbeams round thy honour'd head, 
Through this low vale of tears." 

On reaching Rydal Mount, he heard the painful 
intelligence that Mr. Wordsworth had lost his only 
daughter a month previously. It appeared, for a 
moment, wrong to trespass on ,the grief of an 
afflicted parent, but the very loss increased the 
desire of Mr. Mogridge to see him. He accord- 
iagly delivered his note to a servant; and in a few 
moments the poet-laureate came forward and took 
the visitor by the hand in a most cordial manner. 
There was a welcome in his words and looks; and 
in a short time they were walking together round 
the beautiful grounds of the Mount, beholding the 
striking objects of the glowing scene. 

The simple and courteous demeanour of Mr. 
Wordsworth soon made the visitor feel quite at 
ease. They walked together through the retired 
walks and mossy alcoves of this lovely retreat, while 
grave and serious observations and more cheerful 
remarks alternately diversified their conversation. 



OLD HUMPHREY AS A TOURIST. 



When an allusion was made to the promised five 
minutes, the laureate refused to hear of it. Scarcely 
less than an hour had passed before Mr, Mogridge 
took his departure, impressed with the hosj)itable 
and benignant spirit of the gifted occupant of Rydal 
Mount. 

The frequent tours of Mr. Mogridge, together 
with his enterprising temper, often brought him 
into considerable peril. In trying to pass along the 
face of the Lickey Hills, in Herefordshire, where 
the earth had been taken away, the ground, believed 
by him to be firm, was fragile, and crumbled be- 
neath his feet. The height was great, and deep the 
gravel pit below; and his escape was little less to 
him than a miracle. At the ruins of Kenilworth, 
he imprudently attempted to pass from tower to 
tower along the high wall, when, coming to a broken 
part, he was compelled to turn back. The loftiness 
of the wall, the earth and stones giving way beneath 
his feet, and the action of turning round, affected 
his self-possession. He commenced his enterprise 
bravely, but completed it humbly by crawling back 
along the wall on his hands and knees, narrowly 
escaping with his life. When wandering in Wales 
among slippery rocks, he lost his footing, and slid 
from crag to crag, to the edge of a hole traditionally 
unfathomable. A rugged point of a rock, caught 
by him in his rapid descent, was the means of his 
preservation. When on a tour in Scotland, he was 



74 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



benighted in a bog nearly twenty miles in extent. 
Three times a spot was selected on which to rest for 
the night, and three times he took courage and 
went forward. At length he extricated himself 
from his condition, and found a shelter till the 
morning. Had he taken a false step in some places 
he must have perished. "When ascending the shaft 
of a deep copper mine, one of the rounds of the 
ladder on which he stood gave way as he laid hold 
of it, and came out of its place loose in his right 
hand ; had he not suddenly grasped the ladder he 
would have been precipitated to the bottom. These 
and other instances of providential preservation 
were often recalled to mind, and awakened a burst 
of gratitude from his lips. When reviewing these 
repeated proofs of the divine protection, he would 
embody his emotions in a stanza : — 

The Lord of life, the Prince of peace, 

How wondrous are his Avays ! 
Oh for a harp of thousand strings 

To sound aloud his praise. 



DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 75 



CHAPTER V. 

OLD HUMPHREY IN DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 

The cliaracter and personal dispositions of ^n 
author may be the reverse of those which appear in 
his writings. The moralist on paper is not of ne- 
cessity a moral man in practice, nor does the philo- 
sopher always exemplify his principles in daily con- 
duct. Genius may play about the head, while it is 
uninfluential on the heart. The author of the 
" Night Thoughts" was a volatile wit in private life, 
and the rugged-tempered Johnson wrote on the im- 
portance of good-humour and courtesy. It may, 
however, be declared, without undue praise, that 
the man and the Christian, as depicted in the writ- 
ings of Old Humphrey, were seen in reality in the 
life of the author. That a feigned character was 
so well sustained for more than twenty years may 
be explained by the fact that he therein represented 
and embodied — though unwittingly, yet with much 
truthfulness — his own feelings and habits. The 
sentiments he expressed were not alien to his heart. 
He did not act a part, except in assuming old age 
before it had quite cast its snows upon his head. 
In the relations of a husband, a father, and a 



76 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



friend^ lie was the same gentle, generous, loving, 
»and loveable being as the one lie sought to portray 
in his sketches. 

The sunny temper and consistent conduct of Mr. 
Mogridge diffused an air of cheerfulness through 
the family circle; and to him his children looked, 
not only with the respect due to a parent, but with 
that confidence and freedom which belong to a com- 
panion and a guide. As they rose into life, he en- 
couraged them in a free epistolary intercourse, and 
in the exercise of their powers of composition. To 
one of his sons he acted the part of a literary cen- 
sor. The prose and verse of the young author were 
duly submitted to the father, who, assuming the 
name of '' Sir Christopher Caustic/' made the style 
and sentiments pass through a critical ordeal, after 
the manner of a modern reviewer ; then, changing 
his character into that of '' Sir Francis Fairplay," 
he took a more hopeful view of the pieces, pointing 
out any passages which "were worthy of commenda- 
tion. In this manner he became acquainted with 
his children's aspirations and modes of thought, 
which he could either encourage or correct, as ap- 
peared to him wise and best. 

The opposite conditions into which he was led in 
the path of life — now bright and then overclouded 
— tended to develop his moral character, and to 
exhibit him in the varied lights and shades of the 
Christian life. In early manhood, prospects of com- 



DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. / / 



petence, and even wealth, were before Mm — not 
only on his own side, but on that of the second 
Mrs. Mogridge, whose father was at one time a man 
of considerable fortune ; but Mr. Mogridge did not 
live long ere he found that it is not the language of 
poetry only, but of experience also, that 

" God moves in a mysterious way 
His wonders to perform." 

Shadows overcast his path; riches took to them- 
selves wings and flew away; the hopes of life 
seenled to fade from his view; yet in the midst of 
his trials he was enabled, through the power of 
divine grace, to comfort himself with pious resigna- 
tion and confiding trust in God. He touchingly 
refers to the losses which he was called to endure, in 
his paper ^' On the Merciful Admonitions of Divine 
Providence.'^ 

^^ Bound to the earthy as we are, by ten thousand 
ties, we ought to be especially mindful of those oc- 
casional admonitions of divine Providence which 
set forth the fading nature of all that is earthly — 
those merciful remindings that the time of our so- 
journing here is short, and that 'the fashion of this 
world passeth away.' Some require these remind- 
ings more frequently than others : I speak feelingly. 
It is long since my hat has been without crape 
round it, and my fears often tell me, that while I 
am permitted to remain here, a monument of God's 
forbearance and mercy, I shall often wear this sym- 



78 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



bol of sorrow and affection. An old man's personal 
friends must of necessity get scarce -, it is so with 
mine ; and if I were of a desponding disposition, I 
might fear, from the inroads that death is making 
among them, that I should he left almost without 
any. Even this view, however, is not without com- 
fort; for if, through divine mercy, we ever enter 
heaven, (and we need not doubt, while we are in 
the right way,) why, the more friends we have to 
welcome us the better. 

^' Again, then, I say, that among the first' and 
foremost of the favours bestowed by our great Re- 
deemer are the merciful remindings of their short 
tenure on earth; the notices given us to quit our 
present crazy habitations, a better being prepared 
for us above. 

" A look on ourselves, as sinners, brings a thunder- 
cloud over our heads; but a look at the Saviour puts 
a sunbeam in the sky. It converts the wrathful de- 
nunciation, 'Depart!' into the loving invitation, 
'Come!' And death approaches, not to cut down 
the barren fig-tree, but to gather the shock of corn 
fully ripe into the garner of Grod," 

One of the heaviest trials of Mr. Mogridge was 
the sickness and death of an only and beloved 
daughter, under circumstances calculated, at the 
time, to cast a deep shadow on his spirit. After the 
most manifest proofs of talent and piety, with a ma- 
turity of Christian experience rarely possessed by 



DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 



one of lier years, lier mental powers became too 
vigorous for her physical nature. The mind was, 
for a season, darkened, so that she no longer, as she 
was wont to do, in her soul magnified the Lord, and 
in her spirit rejoiced in Grod her Saviour. In 
reference to this event, he wrote to the late Rev. 
R. Shepherd, of Chelsea: 

^^My dear Friend : — I have for some time been 
walking in the shade. You well know that this fe' 
necessary to us all, and I will tell you the cause of 
my disquietude. Not only have I been very far 
from well, and still remain so, but a daughter, who 
for some time has been absent from me, and whose 
literary talents and true piety were sources of satis- 
faction and joy, has returned to me, the shadow of 
what she was. Her bodily affliction is great, but 
her mental malady of extreme despondency is a 
much greater trial ; we are heavily afflicted, but, dis- 
cerning the hand that holds out to us the bitter cup, 
we drink it without murmuring. Oh, the blessing 
of being able, strengthened from above, meekly and 
unrepiningly to receive the heaviest affliction it 
pleases our Heavenly Father to lay upon us ! For 
this blessing I cannot be too thankful. We have 
found it necessary to request our friends to act 
the friendly part of passing by our melancholy 
dwelling, for my poor afflicted child requires con- 
tinual attention. Add to these troubles the circum- 
stance that I have before me a letter from the phy- 



80 MEMOIR OP OLD HUMPHREY. 



sician attending my dear aged motter^ to tell me 
that any attempt to reacli her sick bed before the 
departure of the spirit to another world, he thinks, 
would be unavailing • and you will then admit that 
I am walking in the shade. I would not willingly 
thus intrude upon you the recital of my sorrows, 
did I not think it necessary to do so by way of 
apology. 

" There ! now I know that you have forgiven me, 
and will not forget me at His footstool whose 
' mercy endureth forever.' Believe me to be, my 
very excellent friend, your's in Christian affection." 

This mysterious visitation made his dwelling for 
some time desolate, and bowed down his spirit. At 
nightfall he has stood opposite an asylum for the 
mentally afflicted, with an agonizing heart, looking 
up at the flickering lights, and anticipating the 
possibility that his beloved daughter might one day 
become an inmate of some such home. Painful as 
were these seasons, he rather sought than avoided 
them. It was his fervent desire that, whatever 
should be the will of God, he might patiently and 
uncomplainingly submit to his righteous decrees. 
The anticipated grief he was spared, for it pleased 
the Father of mercies to take to himself the afflicted 
daughter, and to comfort his heart with the strong 
confidence that she was removed to the world of 
light and love. His own lines express the submis 
sion of his spirit at this time : — 



DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 81 



True faith, inspired by God above, 
Who rules and reigns, whose name is Love, 
Will tranquillize the sufiering soul 
When waves of earthly trouble roil, 
And give the heart, with care oppress'd, 
Assurance of eternal rest. 

Previous to tlie daughter's affliction, the most con- 
fiding intercourse was encouraged by the tender- 
hearted father, more especially in reference to her 
immortal welfare. A letter from the parent, in 
answer to one written by his child, will exhibit the 
free and affectionate communications that were in- 
terchanged : — 

''June 9, 1837. 
"My VERY DEAR Eliza : — If any circumstance 
were wanted to prove how little time I have at my 
disposal, my sending this short note in reply to your 
extraordinary letter would put the matter beyond 
doubt. Such a letter deserves a long and a weighty 
reply, for it is both long and weighty in itself. I 
read it, as your remark on its envelope directed me, 
when I was most at leisure. I read it with much 
care, with much feeling, with much affection, and 
with much thankfulness; and whatever your future 
thoughts, words, and deeds, may be, the very cir- 
cumstance of your having conceived and written 
such a letter will ever be to me a strong consolation. 
Your making my poor expression, ^ Much as I desire 
you to be intellectual, I would rather a thousand 



82 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



times over that you should be pious than poetical/ — 
your making my poor expression the target at which, 
with such an unerring aim, you shoot your arrows, 
weighs not with me a feather. Spare me not, till I 
cry for quarter. I read your remarks with increas- 
ing emotion, and struggled manfully, (and I can 
struggle hard in such a case;) but when I came to 
that crowning crisis of your observations, '■ I will not 
compromise with the highest attainment under hea- 
ven, the brightest wreath of laurels that ever graced 
mortal brow, for so much as one of my Saviour's 
smiles,^ it brought me upon my knees, and wrung 
from me the prayer which is now written in pencil 
on the margin of your letter — ' May God, of his 
mercy and great compassion, knowing the unstable- 
ness of his creature's affections, strengthen this 
glorious resolution in thy soul.' I do, my Eliza, 
highly prize your letter — more highly than any thing 
and every thing you have yet written. I think it is 
one of the most talented as well as the most im- 
portant productions of your pen; it has a glowing 
and glorious energy, sanctified by the hallowed 
object and end it has in view. 

" But though I thus speak, and though I would 
not willingly wither the freshness nor weaken the 
energy of your Christian affections, I must try to 
guard you against undervaluing the sincerity of 
those who, professing the same belief as yourself, do 
not manifest the same ardour. Like you, in my 



DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 83 



youtliful days, did I withdraw myself from every eye, 
save that of the Eternal, and many an aspiration has 
been j)oiired at his mercy-seat, as fervent and as 
sincere as your own. I have felt that all the world 
could oifer was dust too despicable for an heir of 
heaven 'to condescend to accept/ when compared 
with the 'white robe' and the 'glittering crown' 
reserved for the faithful followers of the Redeemer; 
but these aspirations, ardent and sincere as they 
were, could not always be sustained. Few and far 
between were those sunny seasons of the soul's re- 
joicing; and so will it be with you. These fresh, 
fervid feelings of your' s will pass away; nay, I doubt 
not, have already passed away; and though they will 
come again, again they will retire. Moses was forty 
days in the mount three times, but he was forty 
years in the wilderness. 

" The veteran warrior smiles at the ardour of the 
youthful volunteer : he admires his courage — his 
disinterestedness — his patriotism. 'Thus was it 
with me,' says he; 'but, in the midst of my ardour 
and my enterprise, I fell into the hidden ambush 
of the enemy, and since then, though I admire 
courage and ardour, I have been backward to blame 
such soldiers as appear less energetic than the 
volunteer.' 

" My dear girl, so long as we are what we are, 
the perishing bits and drops of this temporal being 
will, at times, take precedence of the bread of 



8-1 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



heaven and things that are eternal ; hut this is n( ' 
proof that we do not helieve in eternal things; 
neither is it a proof, when a creature of infirm- 
ity and inconsistency speaks calmly of religion, 
that he does not in his heart and soul believe the 
Bible. 

^' May religion "grow in your soul rather than in 
your professions. I would rather have you a retir- 
ing Christian, than hear your religious course ex- 
tolled by a thousand tongues. Let humility, and 
sincerity, and forbearance, and charity, go hand-in- 
hand together. It would afflict me to hear only 
that you were an extraordinary pious young woman, 
though it would comfort me to know that this was 
the case. I hardly know whether, from these poor 
remarks, you will make out the meaning of, my 
dear girl, 

'' Your affectionate friend and father.'* 

In social intercourse the wisdom and kindness of 
Old Humphrey were seen to much advantage. His 
gentlemanly and agreeable deportment, his delicate 
consideration for the feelings and sentiments of 
others, and his general intelligence, secured for him 
a welcome in every circle where he was known. 
When on a visit in town or country, he soon became 
a favourite with the young. They were readily won 
over to his side from the kindly notice he took of 



DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 85 



them, and his solicitude to promote their pleasures and 
liappiness. Many a family fireside will long cherish 
the remembrance of the pious old gentleman, whose 
happy looks made all around him happy too; and 
on whose lips the children were wont to hang in 
rapt attention, as he extemporized a story to amuse 
and instruct them. 

It may be readily supposed that this characteristic 
sociality, as well as the influence created by his 
writings, would devolve on him a considerable 
amount of correspondence. The claims on his time 
for letter-writing, indeed, often sorely interfered 
with his ordinary engagements; but with much 
good-will he promptly met the numerous appeals of 
friendship and duty which arose in this way. His 
letters were written in the few intervals he could 
secure for the purpose, and often when wearied in 
body and mind from long sitting at his study table; 
yet are they pleasing expositions of the sentiments 
and feelings of the writer, and illustrate his agree- 
able method of laying hold of every occasion to do 
good. 

It would extend this brief memorial beyond the 
limits assigned to it, were there to be introduced any 
extended selection of letters to his friends. A few, 
written under different circumstances, will suffice to 
show the playfulness of his style and the occasional 
gravity of his remarks. 

8 



86 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



TO MISS . 

''Kingsland, Dec. 30, 1845. 

'^ My dear Miss . I have just returned 

home, and find your kind note on my table. It is 
now half-past eleven of the clock — a period of 
time when, on ordinary occasions, ordinary men of 
pnident habits and upright intentions are recruiting 
their wearied bodies and minds with refreshing 
slumber. But as I am meditating, in a day or two, 
a rapid run into Herefordshire, and as my intervening 
moments are already mortgaged for more than they 
are worth, 1 must either hurry through a few lines 
now, or add to my sad delinquency. * * * 

^^Yes, after a long delay, I wrote to you, and 
fearing to address you as you requested, lest you 
should have returned home, I wrote also to our good 

friend. Miss S , requesting her to hand my 

scribble to you ', but lo, and behold ! when I came 
to put your letter in her's, it was not to be found. 
From that time to this, the note I wrote to Miss 

S has been waiting to receive the lost note. 

Some fine summer's day, perhaps, in the year one 
thousand eight hundred and fifty-five, should I then 
be an inhabitant of the world, it may be found 
among my multifarious papers. * * * 

^^ Now and then, but not often, I have heard your 
worthy and honoured pastor, to whom God, in his 
goodness, has vouchsafed powers of no ordinary 



DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 87 



kind. He has sent me away pondering on lioly 
things^ neither ungrateful for the gracious message 
of mercy, nor for the advantage in hearing it elo- 
quently set forth. 

" I conclude that your invalided sister is better, 
and regret to hear you have a cousin on the couch 
of affliction. And yet why should I regret ? Is it 
not a light thing for the Great Physician to bid her 
take up her bed and walk ; or so to bless his pain- 
ful visitation as to turn her mourning into rejoicing ? 
She is in good hands ; only let her trust Him, and 
she shall come off more than conqueror. 

" Years ago, in the part of the country to which 
I am going, I knew two sisters; one was called away 
from the world, and then the other. At an adjoin- 
ing mansion, I knew also two other sisters of the 
same name as the former ; one of the latter is gone, 
the other is, I hear, going : yet here am I still ! 
Marvellous are the works and ways of the Holy One I 

" * * * To your sister remember me kindly, 
and also the invalided cousin. Tell her to look up- 
wards and onwards. 

" I am pleased that you have so keen an appetite 
for rural scenery and the world of vegetation. The 
trees ! the trees ! Admire them ! Revel in them ! 
But look beyond them. 

" Thanking you very heartily for your letter, with 
respectful remembrances to your parents, I remain, 
my dear young friend, your's very affectionately. '^ 



MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



TO THE SAME, ON HER BIRTHDAY. 

" August 2, 1851. 

" Often have I given you poesy on your natal 
day; let me now give you a word or two of prose. 
Whether presented in prose or poesy, the oflferinu- 
of the heart you will not despise. 

" Autumn, winter, spring, and summer, have 
passed ; the earth has again rolled round the sun ; 
I have journeyed through another year; and once 
more has the anniversary of your birthday arrived. 

^^ Every passing year is a promoter of change, 
and never does the new birthday find us where the 
old birthday left us. Some are taken from, and 
some are added to, our circle of friends. We are 
either in better or worse health, and are stronger or 
weaker, than we were ; and even if no other change 
has occurred, we are sure to be a year older and a 
year nearer an eternal world. 

^^How is it with you? Are you much as you 
were in the bygone year, or has the change been 
great ? Have you been adding to your mirth and 
your money-bags, or laying up treasures where moth 
and rust cannot consume them? To enjoy the 
present in this world with a thankful heart is a 
great good; to provide for the future in the world 
to come in a prayerful, peaceful. Saviour-loving 
spirit, is a yet greater advantage. How reasonable, 
how desirable, how necessary, and how imperatively 
important it is, that, in passing through things 



DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 89 



temporal; we should not forget things spiritual and 
eternal ! 

^'But I meant rather to throw a flower in your 
pathway than to read you a homily; .take, then, the 
warm-hearted wish, that your's may be the good 
things of this and a better world; that you may be 
blessed in your earthly possessions and your hea- 
venly hopes; and that every birthday may find you 
clad in the goodly garments of praise, with the Rose 
of Sharon blooming in your bosom." * 

TO MISS ROSE L . 



''Brighton, June 9, 1853. 

''I am here with my invalided partner, bathing 
in sunbeams and sea-breezes. You will soon be 
similarly circumstanced at Tenby. Health, peace, 
love, joy, and praise, be the companions of your 
party ! As to-morrow will be the anniversary of 
your birthday, willingly would I have sent you a 
few verses, but hardly can I get the time to write 
even this hasty note. Sunbeams and blessings rest 
upon you ! Had your honoured uncle, now in hea- 
ven, been with you, his gentle voice and affection- 
ate smile would have congratulated you. 

"Not yet has the kind-hearted group which at- 
tended me when I left hospitable S Hall passed 

from my memory. Heartily do I hope that Miss 
J will have cause to look back on this day 

with joy and thankfulness. 

8« 



90 MEMOIR OP OLD HUMPHREY. 



" I sliall mentally be among your gathered friends < 

to-morrow, and getting, among other pleasant things, ! 

a friendly shake of the hand/^ ] 

The letters arising out of the free intercourse of | 

friendship would fill many volumes. They have i 

not been sought for, but a few which have come to , 
hand may not be without an interest to the reader. 

TO THE LATE W. F. LLOYD, ESQ. 

^ " Kinffsland, June 9, 1845. 

"Knowing your habits, and possessing the power ; 
of creating a vivid resemblance of many of my absent 
friends, and remembering somewhat of Gloucester- 
shire, I have had many a ramble with you, though | 
you have seen me not. Nor have I forgotten you j 
where we should remember all who have a claim on ' 
our respect and mingle with our affections. I fall ; 
back with peculiar pleasure on some of our High- ' 
bury Park meetings — on your decision — your con- 
centrated remarks — your power of setting to work 
the thoughts of another — your elasticity of spirit — ' 
your spirit-stirring laugh — and, not least, your j 
unusual talent of exposition, and sweet spirit in ; 
the hour of prayer. I cannot tell you the influence i 
the last has had over me. It used to affect me as I ' 
imagine the church prayers would, if, in addition to i 
their beautiful fulness and simplicity, they took in j 
the occurring circumstances of the day. I 

"I hope that dear little niece of your's rambles | 



DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 91 



witli you occasionally; and I seem to love lier when 
I think she is paying you all the attention she can, 
getting good from you and doing good to you. 
May all who minister in aught to -your comfort or 
pleasure be abundantly ministered to in temporal 
and eternal things ! 

^^ You did indeed surprise me by your relation of 
your rencontre with my sometime tutor. I owed him 
much; for when I was a boy he treated me with 
much attention and kindness. My schoolmaster 
had strong passions and little knowledge^ so that I 
should have profited very little had not my tutor 
acted a kindly part by me, and condescended — for 
^t was then a condescension — to treat me as a com- 
panion more than as a pupil. I have tried again 
and again to realize your meeting with him, and I 
hope that you have seen him since the interview 
described. 

'■'■ On Saturday, for the first time in my life, I visited 
Hampton Court. You have, I doubt not, been there. 
Those spacious courts and extended gardens re- 
minded me of Versailles, for we have nothing that 
so much reminds us of the magnificence of Louis 
XIY. as Greenwich and Hampton Court, I much 
enjoyed my visit, 

^^ At the time I am scribbling this, the weather is 
here delightful. I trust it is so with you, and that, 
however slowly, you are adding to your strength. 
With the heartiest desires for your welfare, I am, etc,'' 



MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



TO THE SAME. 

^^ Kingslmid, August 18, 1846. 

^^ My dear Sir : — Though I have not written to 
you, yet have you been much, very much, in my 
thoughts, and the more so because the replies to my 
inquiries after your welfare, from time to time, have 
been far from satisfactory. 

" Usually, I think, an abstinence from city busi- 
ness, and a banquet of country air, have had a 
salutary effect upon you; and though I have re- 
gretted that the same prescription could not be 
persevered in by you for a period sufficiently^ pro- 
longed to render you strong as a giant and fleet as 
an antelope, yet have you, I think, invariably been 
bettered by the breezes. 

" In my late attack, I was sadly prostrated in my 
strength, yet am I again, through mercy, equal to 
'leap over a wall.^ May it be the same with you 
shortly, with an exulting heart beating in your 
bosom ! 

" You take your strolls, I suppose, according to 
your wont, and leisurely mark the waving of the 
trees and the soft, soothing rippling of the brook, 
as well as other innumerable solacing ruralities that 
sweetly minister to the body's health and mind's re- 
pose. The worst feature, however, of this mono- 
tonous retirement is, that, though it always soothes 
asperities, it sometimes creates, rather than dissi- 



DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 93 



pates, lonely emotions. In illness we frequently 
want a voice still more cheerful and encouraging 
than the crow of the cock, the song of the lark, 
and the general jubilee of rejoicing creation. Our 
hearts are clamorous for a voice definitely directed 
to us — a human voice : we want what can sympa- 
thize with us, excite cheerfulness, and share our 
joy. The whistle of the ploughboy is any one's 
whistle who can enjoy it; the milkman's song is 
anybody's song; and even the merry laugh of the 
haymaker is general property. None of these are 
definitely onr's — not even one of them of necessity 
recognises our existence — and the only connection 
between them and us, in a melancholy moment, 
seems to be the circumstance that they happen to 
take place when we happen to be within hearing. 

'' I know that such sentiments as these are 
heresy against that high-wrought love of nature and 
rurality that sometimes brims our eyes and animates 
our hearts, yet for all this they are too true. I do 
hope that your rambles are often shared by those 
who would rejoice to see you rejoice, and mourn 
to see you mourn. I hope the cheerful voice of 
your niece occasionally rings around you, and 
also that now and then, but not too often, she 
plots a little good-natured mischief against her 
uncle. ^' 



94 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



TO WILLIAM JONES, ESQ. 

'■^ Kingsland, August 21, 1853. 
" My dear Sir : — I am turning my face towards 
the sea, and shall take it kind of you if you can 
add to my gratification by supplying me with a 
few of my publications, to put into the hands of such 
as I think likely to read and to purchase. 

The moment that his face I see, | 

I know the man that must hear me; i 

To him my tale I teach. ] 

I 

I am not greedy, but a few will help me up nicely. ' 
^^ I hope that you continue well, and are equal to i 
a brave struggle with old Father Winter when he 
comes, with his customary freedom flinging the | 
snow in our faces." n 

I 

TO THE SAME. 

''Hastings, Oct. 6, 1853. | 

"My dear Sir: — I fear that in not writing a ' 

line to you earlier I have run no small risk of calling j 

up in your mind a suspicion that I am either ex- 1 

tremely negligent or exceedingly ungrateful. The ' 

packet of books with which I was favoured when I ' 

came here ought to have been forthwith acknow- j 

lodged with my best thanks. There are those in ' 

the world in whose oiDinion we would not willingly ' 

lose grade, and certainly you are one of them, or j 



DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 95 



rather one of those whose ill opinion would afflict 
me. Ever since I came here I have been increas- 
ingly subject to callers^ and they have been too 
many for my best resolutions. A daily abridgment 
of my time has been attended with its natural con- 
sequences, — a want of efficiency in duty, and a delay 
in things which ought to have been accomplished. 
Receive now those hearty thanks which long, long 

ago ought to have reached your hands. Mr. C 

tells me you have had benefit from your visit to 
Ramsgate — an information which was received with 
sincere pleasure. I know Ramsgate, but not suffi- 
ciently to picture your wanderings among the rocks 
and popular localities of the place. Since com- 
mencing this note, I have had three callers, and at 
this moment there are three artists sketching on the 
hill below; all of them are expecting me to join 
them. Two of them are well known to me, the 
other is a stranger. 

^'I would, if I could, send you a bundle of sun- 
beams and a bag of sea-breezes from this place; but 
not being able to do this, you must kindly take the 
will for the deed, and give me full credit for being, 
my dear sir, 

^^ Your's, truly obliged and very sincerely." 

Mr. IMogridge was not an inattentive observer of 
public affairs, though his politics took but little of a 
party character. On one subject, however, he was 



96 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



most decided, — tliat of opposition to all tlie political 
as well as religious encroacliments of Popery. A 
letter to a friend, at a time when its insidious inroads 
had aroused the attention of all sound-hearted Pro- 
testants, afforded an occasion for a statement of his 
views of the true nature of that antichristian system. 

TO THE LATE REV. RICHARD H. SHEPHERD. 

''August 16, 1843. 

" My good Friend : — I am not ungrateful for all 
your kindness. I shall store up your suggestions, 
all of which may be useful ; a part of them will be 
new. One friend in a corner like you is worth a 
hundred merely respectable acquaintances. * * * 
I will here copy a few lines from a paper I am now 
writing, from which you may learn how well we 
agree on the subject of Popery. 

"^I know that Christian charity is urgent in its 
demands, and that it will not abate a jot or tittle of 
its requirements, however much opposed to our in- 
clination. It requires the full and free forgiveness 
of our bitterest enemies, and it is at our peril that 
we refuse acquiescence in the demand. 

Thus spake the righteous Lord of earth and heaven, 
" Forgive, or thou shalt never be forgiven." 

^^If ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly 
Father will also forgive you; but if ye forgive not :" 
see Matt. vi. 14, 15. Not once, nor twice, nor 
seven times^ are we to forgive, but " seventy times 



DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 97 



seveD." The terms^ however, on whicli this forgive- 
ness is to be awarded are stated : the offence must 
be repented of. "If thy brother trespass against 
thee, rebuke him ; and if he repent, forgive him :'' 
Luke xvii. 3. 

" ' But has Popery repented the shedding of the 
blood of the martyrs, and has it given evidence 
of this repentance in word or deed? Is not the 
same creed held as heretofore, and are not the same 
intolerant principles avowed ? 

" 'True it is that we have no Gardiners nor Bon- 
ners exercising their ungodly bigotry and rancorous 
inhumanity, and that we have no Smithfield and 
Oldham fagot and fiames polluting earth and heaven 
with the unhallowed incense of human sacrifice; 
but what warrant is there that this will always be 
the case ? 

" ' Will you smile at an old man's fears, and talk 
garrulously about the " march of mind ?" Will you 
tell him that Popery has changed its character, and 
that cruelty has become obsolete ? If you know 
your own heart, you will be less confident in this 
matter. Good men have been destroyed by papists 
on the charge of " relapsing into heresy ;" is there no 
such thing as papists relapsing into cruelty? Do 
you not know that unsanctified human nature re- 
mains the same ? Have we not read in holy writ 
that the dog will return " to his own vomit again ; 
and the sow that was washed, to her wallowing in 



98 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



the mire "? When tlie scotched snake recovers, does i 
it not use its poisoned fangs ? Why then may not ] 
Popery in power do what it has done in former j 
times ? 

" ' It may be that recent ponderings on the cruel ; 
sufferings of martyrs, and the unrighteous bitterness ] 
of their oppressors, have excited me too much with 
abhorrence and indignation; but unless my judg- \ 
ment be strangely perverted, I am justified in my ] 
present emotions; and I hold it not inconsistent with ' 
Christian charity to give utterance to the opinion . 
that, so long as there is the remotest probability, I 
had almost said possibility, of a return of these 
murderous martyrdoms, these ruffian-minded atroci- 1 
ties, it is a duty to keep them alive in our remem- ' 
brance, and to hand them down from generation to 
generation, even to the end of the world/ 

'' I think to these sentiments you will subscribe, : 
and I know you have forbearance enough to pardon ' 
the portion of egotism which has mingled with their j 
avowal. 

" I love to think as good men think. Oh ! there | 
is something noble, exalted, heavenly, in loving i 
what is lovely, and pure, and good, and holy, and | 
waging an eternal warfare against hatred, and bit- I 
terness, and cruelty, and oppression, and sin of all 
kinds. We are never so strong as when defending j 
a good cause. * * * '' | 

When the heart of Old Humphrey was oppressed j 



DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 99 



with sorrow, or when called to sympathize in the 
grief of others, there was much tenderness in the 
expression of his feelings and pious wisdom in the 
sentiments he avowed. The ensuing letters were 
written in times of affliction. 

TO A REVEREND FRIEND. 

''Kingsland, 3lmj 2, 1845. 
^^ Since we met, no doubt we have both had a few 
bodily and mental twinges, without which we should, 
perhaps, neither sufficiently estimate our mercies on 
this side the river, nor so often yearn for the sinless 
and sorrowless peace and joy that exists on the 
other. What would the best picture that bright- 
eyed, ready-handed genius ever flung on canvas be, 
without shadows ? and what would all the college ad- 
vantages be to the wisest and best .among mankind, 
had they not, now and then, a profitable lesson in 
the school of affliction? 

" When winds and waves unite to foil 
The seaman's skill — the care, the toil 

With which he feels oppress'd I 
When he surveys the low'ring skies, 
Then hope and fear alternate rise 

Within his troubled breast. 

" But if the raging storm subside. 
And that for which he deeply sigh'd — 

A pleasing calm — succeed, 
He sure enjoys the pleasure more. 
From what his mind had felt before. 

And then is bless'd indeed. 



100 MEMOIR OF OLD HUiMPHREY. 



^^ Again is the green leaf come, and once more is 
the breath of spring breathing around, making me 
yearn for the dell, the dingle, and the dancing daf- 
fodils. A rural scene is a library; and the skies, 
the clouds, the hills, the valleys, the trees, the 
birds, the insects, the flowers, the leaves, and the 
blades of grass, are books of prose and poesy, of 
elegant extracts and of practical information, by 
which we may improve in natural history, botany, 
science, and philosophy, and in which we may read 
essays on simplicity, lectures on economy, and 
profitable sermons on the greatness and goodness of 
God. I should like to pull about the books of this 
library with you, vastly — both of us up to our knees 
in buttercups, up to our chins in happiness, and our 
heads and ears in thankfulness and praise. And I 
always rise in my own estimation as I subscribe my- 
self, my dear, good sir, with Christian afiection, 

" Your friend.'^ 

TO THE SAME. 

"Auffust 30, 1842. 
'' My DEAR, GOOD Friend : — Many thanks for your 
sympathy and kindness. Yes, ' if the master pleases,' 
I will send, addressed to you, for your daughter, 
(whose worthy husband had me among his congre- 
gation on Sunday week,) a few lines from the pen of 
Old Humphrey. I thank her for the compliment 



DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 101 



implied by lier request. The waters are gathering 
yet deeper around me; though not so deep, but, 
standing on the Rock of ages, I can regard them 
without fear. My son, aged fifteen, the youngest, 
is on a bed of sickness': we have cause for much 
anxiety on his account. My poor daughter will, I 
think, be here but a short time longer. She is in 
an adjoining room to that of her brother, sinking 
very fast. Her physician, I think, has not a hope, 
and I have numbered her among those who "o out 
of great tribulation, to be arrayed in white. 

^'You see at the moment my hands and my heart 
are full -, and you have too much kindness in your 
nature to put any but the kindest construction on 
this hasty note. I picture you in your study; the 
blessings of the book of books rest upon you, and 
they are neither few nor small. You were, when you 
last wrote, a little cast down ; but I hope that you are 
now a 'mailed man.^ More is He who is for us 
'than they who are against us,^ and we shall even 
yet be more than conquerors. To good Mrs. Shep- 
herd and your daughter, fail not to make my re- 
membrance acceptable, and never, in your list of 
friends, omit his name who is your's with unfeigned 
aflfection." 

TO THE SAME. 

"Jiihj 17, 1848. 
" My DEAR, GOOD Friend : — * * '''No dis- 
loyalty, no diminution of respect, no lack of affec- 

9* 



102 MEMOIR or OLD HUJIPHREY. 



tion you-ward, occasioned my leaving your note so 
long unanswered. Doubt it not; believe it fullj 
and faithfully. 

" Sorry you are 'unwell/ but this is the charter, 
all covenanted and provided for among the 'all 
things ' that shall work for good. 

'' Some strange things have occurred, some 
strange parts have been played on the ' world's wide 
stage/ since last we met ; we must talk of them and 
better things. I trust you can still strike the in- 
strument of ' ten strings/ still sweep the heavenly 
harp with a master's hand, with a heart-glowing 
burst of hallelujahs. It is easy to rejoice in sun- 
shine — be it the part of my dear friend to exult in 
shadows. ' Though He slay me/ said Job. That is 
the spirit. Come years, come infirmities, care, 
pains, sorrows, darkness, and approaching death; 
still to know Him in whom we have believed. Let 
this be our aim, to know, to trust, to magnify. * * * 
I am, my dear good friend, not likely to be other 
than your's very heartily and affectionately. '^ 

TO THE REV. S. LLOYD. 

'' April 2o, 1853. 
My DEAR Sir : — I have just received your kind 
communication, with the shadowy intelligence it 
contains. It affords me unfeigned satisfaction to 
perceive in the midst of your mourning that you 
have strong consolation, and are enabled to look 



DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 103 



rather to tlie heavenly glory surrounding your de- 
parted brother, than to dwell on the earthly gloom 
from which he has been mercifully taken. I will 
not trouble you with my own emotions further than 
to say that, excepting his immediate relatives, no 
one will more affectionately foster the remembrance 
of your departed brother than myself. On his de- 
cease I cannot but mourn because I am selfish, and 
I cannot but rejoice at his deliverance, because he 
was afflicted, and I loved him. 

" I am not unmindful, my dear sir, of your kind- 
ness in asking me, in the midst of your affliction, 
by your own pen, to be one of the mourners on the 
iapproaching melancholy occasion. With chastened 
.satisfaction, all well, I will attend, and for this pur- 
pose accept your kind invitation. Let me be re- 
spectfully and affectionately remembered to the sor- 
rowing hearts around you, and believe me to be, my 
dear sir, with much sympathy, your's, very truly 
obliged.'^ 

TO MISS SHEPHERD, ON THE DEATH OF HER FA- 
THER, THE REV. R. H. SHEPHERD, CHELSEA. 

"i/a?/20, 1850. 
"My DEAR Miss Shepherd: — I really hardly 
know whether to weep with you, or rejoice; whether 
to condole with you, or to congratulate you. I could 
do either or all with a full heart. And can it be 
that my dear, good, and much-honoured friend is 



104 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



now in glory ? Shall I never again receive, from his 
talented hand and warm heart, a playful, a friendly, 
and a patriarchal epistle ? ' The Lord gave, and 
the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the name of 
the Lord !' Hardly can there be one who honoured 
your dear father more than I. I shall go, not a 
weeping — so far as sorrow is concerned, but as a 
rejoicing — pilgrim, to Norwood Cemetery, when I 
know where you ^have laid him.' I heartily thank 
God, who, of his infinite goodness and mercy, has 
taken to himself my dear departed brother. His 
gloom is now changed into gladness, and his pains 
into pleasures. You all know where to go for con- 
solation and strength, even to Hhe Rock, the Rock 
of ages,' in which your honoured father trusted. 
Grrace, mercy, and peace rest upon you all. Af- 
fectionately would I be remembered to all. 

" I remain your sincere friend." 

To gratify a widening circle of friendship, Mr. 
Mogridge's muse was often laid under tribute. 
Birthday poems were forwarded — in some instances 
annually — expressive of his hopes and wishes for 
those he loved. The three following were addressed 
on such occasions: the first to a young lady; the 
second, as the lines express, was sent after the 
birthday had passed; the third was to a venerable 
lady, who had shown much kindness to the author 
of it. 



DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 



TO MISS 



August 2, 1853. 

Dear Anna, thy birthday again 

Sets my heart and my spirits a-ehiming, 
So, instanter, I take up my pen, 

To give thee a page of my rhyming. 
Though the summer is vanishing fast, . 

The autumn bee still is heard humming ; 
Then smile at thy cares that are past, 

And look on to thy comforts a-coming. 

Do I wish thee long days of delights. 

Unshaded by sorrow and sadness. 
With painless and peaceable nights, 

And awakings of sunshine and gladness ? 
Ay, all, and a thousand times more. 

With the joy that the heart most allureth, 
An(J that jewel, the true "Koh-i-noor," 

Content, and the "hope that endureth." 

Too much do I prize thee to tie 

Thy desires where thy heart might be friendless ; 
Thy enjoyments must stretch to the sky, 

And be dimless, and boundless, and endless. 
Be thine, then, a foretaste of love, 

For a season delightful and vernal. 
With hereafter a summer above. 

Unchanging, and bright, and eternal. 

Be grateful when blessings arise. 

And confide, when thy troubles confound thee, 
In thy Father who rules in the skies, 

And his angels shall hover around thee. 



106 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



Though the summer is vanishing fast, 
The autumn bee still is heard humming ; 

Then smile at thy cares that are past, 
And look on to thy comforts a-coming. 



AFTER THE FAIR. 
To Miss , sent after her Birthday, Dec. 10, 1850. 

In the days of ray boyhood 

I heard the bells chime. 
And set out for the village 

In holiday time ; 
But, alas ! for I loiter'd, 

And did not get there 
' - (It sadly perplex'd me) 

Till after the fair. 

Ah me ! how the cares 

Of the world, as they move, 
Drive away from our thoughts 

E'en the friends that we love, 
Till they rush on our hearts 

With reproach's wild glare. 
And remind us our friendship 

Is after the fair. 

In playing the poet, 

The kind-hearted pen 
Should be prompt in its oflferings 

To women or men; 



DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 107 



For the sweetest effusions, 
Though written with care, 

When too late, may be said to be 
After the fair. 

' Alas ! my dear Anna," 

I say, with a sigh, 
■ Once again, to my grief. 

Has the birthday gone by ; 
And my stanzas, now sent. 
Be they worthless or rare. 
Will arrive — how provoking ! — 
Long after the fair." 

I desire and I pray 

That God's grace may be given, 
To guard thee on earth 

And to guide thee to heaven ; 
But I know, to my sorrow, 

My wish and my prayer, 
Though they fly, cannot reach thee 

Till after the fair. 

Forgive me, dear Anna : 

Thy pardon shall prove 
That thy heart is a heart 

Of forgiveness and love ; 
But I know thou wilt pardon, 

And take as they are 
These few lines of affection. 

Though after the fair. 



108 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



TO THE HONOURED ANCIENT^ ON HER 
BIRTHDAY. 

Honoured ancient, many days 

Thou hast worn the garb of sadness ; 
He who watches all thy ways 

Soon shall change thy gloom to gladness ; 
He whom thou hast trusted long, 

Love and mercy go before Him. 
He is wise, and he is strong — 

Still adore him, still adore him. 

Would that I could give relief, 

Gently soothe the pains that grieve thee ! 
But take heart amid thy grief; 

He, thy Lord, will never leave thee. 
Hark ! I hear the angels cry, 

"Whither wouldst thou wander, whither? 
All is peaceful in the sky — 

Come up hither, come up hither." 

Kound thee bend a loving throng. 

Oh, how ardently they love thee ! 
Angels are thy guests among. 

And thy Saviour is above thee. 
Think how hardly he was tried, 

When with cruel hands they tore him : 
'Twas for thee he bled and died — 

Still adore him, still adore him. 

He shall change the darksome cloud 
To golden beams and silvery lightness. 

Comfort thee, and call aloud, 

And bid thy sun go down in brightness. 



DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE, 109 



Hark ! again the angels cry, 

" Goodliest things on earth must wither, 
All are fadeless in the sky — 

Come up hither, come up hither." 

In the days when albums were in fashion^ and at 
times when his young friends tried their skill in 
musical composition^ and required some original 
lines for the purpose, his pen was in frequent re- 
quisition; and though often to his inconvenience, it 
was not in his nature to refuse a request, whether 
made by old or young. A few specimens from his 
portfolio may be here given : — 

MERCY. 

How oft, amid the murky shroud. 

The sunbeam wins its way, 
And, breaking from the thunder-cloud, 

Proclaims a goodly day ! 
How often, too, with waving wings, 

When judgments seem to roll, 
Mercy flies kindly forth, and flings 

Her sunbeams on the soul ! 



THE IVY. 



Ivy, thou art ever green ; 
Let me changeless then be seen; 
While my Saviour loves me, ne'er 
Let my love grow old and sere. 
10 



110 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



Ivy, clinging round the tree, 
Gladly would I learn of thee ; 
Clinging, as the year goes round, 
To the cross would I be found. 



OLD Humphrey's inquiries. 

Art thou a pilgrim ? dost thou travel straight 

By Calvary's cross, to find the narrow gate ? 

Is Christ thy hope, thy trust ? yea, day by day 

Thy guide, thy staff, thy lantern, and thy way ? 

Canst thou for him renounce thy worldly pride? 

Is he thy riches ? Is all dross beside ? 

Is he thy sword and shield in peril's hour ? 

Thy rock, thy refuge, thine abiding tower ? 

If, with thy wealth around thee, thou-canst bend, 

And seek with all thy soul the sinner's Friend, 

A beggar still at mercy's open door. 

Then art thou rich indeed : if not, thou'rt poor. 



WHO ART THOU? 

Art thou young, and this world dost thou love ? 
Oh, why shouldst thou thoughtlessly roam ? 

Thy Father is calling thy young heart above, 
And the beautiful heavens are thy home : 
To thj home, truant hoy, to tliy Jiome. 



DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. Ill 



Hast thou number'd the years of a man ? 
Oh, think then in time of thine end ; 

Though thy griefs may be many — though life be a 
span, 
Yet God is thy Father and Friend : 
To thy Friend, man of grief , to thy Friend! 

Art thou aged in yeal-s and in woes, 
And weary, and worn, and oppressed ? 

There's a peace for the pilgrim, a place of repose, 
And heaven is appointed for rest : 
To thy rest, man of years, to thy rest ! 



"JESUS DIED/' 

With erring heart I went astray 
In paths of sin, and wander' d wide, 

Till Mercy met me in my way, 
And softly whisper'd, " Jesus died." 

Offended at that sudden sound. 

Indignantly I turned aside ; 
But still the voice was heard around. 

And still it whisper'd, " Jesus died.'' 

Then Justice cross'd my path, and stood, 
Erect and stern, to quell my pride ; 

His glittering sword was bathed in blood ; 
Ah ! well for me that " Jesus died." 



112 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



Come forth, thou traitor to thy God," 
His voice in thundering accents cried; 

Oppressed, I sank upon the sod. 
And faintly answered, " Jesus died/^ 

E'en as I falter'd forth the word, 
He strove his blushing face to hide, 

And sheathed in haste his blood-stain'd sword ; 
And then I shouted, " Jesus died !" 



COURAGE, CHRISTIAN. 

Though thy sins were untold as the sands, 
Thy Saviour has scatter'd them wide ; 

Oh, look on the palms of his hands. 
And the rent and the stream at his side. 

So long as thy Saviour shall reign, 
And the throne of his glory endure, 

So long will his promise remain, 
And thy pardon and peace be secure. 

The glowing piety apparent in some of the pre- 
ceding contributions, and others in this volume, 
partook of a more subdued and chastened character 
in ,the Christian life of their author. His piety 
was indeed of a quiet and unobtrusive character, 
'with great meekness, he would at times refer to 
the lowly, abasing views of himself which possessed 



DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 113 



his mind. He felt that he must lie very low at the 
foot of the cross, seeking for salvation only for the 
righteousness' sake of his divine Redeemer. But 
whatever were the sentiments as to his own religious 
experience, those who knew him best in the family 
circle, or in the intimacy of friendship, felt that 
they might, without irreverence, apply to him the 
Saviour's commendation of Nathaniel : " Behold an 
Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile V 



10* 



114 MEMOIR OP OLD HUMPHREY. 



CHAPTER YI. 

LAST DAYS OF OLD HUMPHREY. 

Years passed away in active literary engagements, 
until Mr, Mogridge became a real " Old Humphrey/' 
But with advancing age came weakness and afflic- 
tion; chiefly from the effects of a sprained ankle. 
He thus describes the occasion of his inconvenience 
and pain : — " I was returning home late, (sadly too 
late for one of my years, for it was eleven o'clock 
at night, but I had beeu unexpectedly detained,) 
when suddenly I set my foot on a broken flag-stone. 
Something gave a snap, but at the moment so intense 
was my agony, that I knew not whether it was my 
leg, or a piece of wood on the flag-stone. A deathly 
coldness came over me, and I thought that my senses 
were about to leave me ] so, steadying myself against 
a closed shop-window, I awaited the crisis. A cold 
perspiration having somewhat relieved me, and being 
near my abode, I hopped to some palisades by the 
road-side, and, with the assistance they afforded me, 
contrived to reach my own habitation. What a 
blessing it is to be calm and collected in bodily 
affliction ! This has hitherto almost always been 



LAST DAYS OF OLD HUMPHREY. 115 



the case witli me, and it was so on the occasion to 
whicli I have alluded. I succeeded in getting off 
my boot, and, perceiving how much my foot and 
ankle were bruised, swollen, and inflamed, immedi- 
ately applied to a surgeon ; happily, no bones were 
broken.^' 

This painful casualty elicited the sympathy and 
kind attentions of all to whom Mr. Mogridge was 
known; which he acknowledged, in his own cheer- 
ful and agreeable way, in the two pieces, "On a 
Sprained Ankle," and a "Little Gossip about a 
Lame Foot ;" pieces' which, it is known, have af- 
forded profitable instruction to some similarly afflict- 
ed. It soon became evident that the effect of the 
injury was an impaired state of health. From that 
time, he was unable to vi^t his favourite localities, 
and but seldom to enjo* the society of endeared 
friends. Instead of revelling in the meadows and 
among the hedgerows of the country, his study was 
now the chief scene of his meditations. Here he 
continued to pen those "Addresses,'^ and "Obser- 
vations," and "Appeals," which were welcome to 
thousands of his admiring readers. He sat from 
hour to hour at his little table, his books spread 
around him, the Holy Bible in the most conspicuous 
place, and a large card before him, on which were 
written, in a bold style, the three words, Allure- 
Instruct — Impress, to remind him of his work, 
and the way in which it was to be done. 



116 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



Nor was his pen less active in this season of 
bodily infirmity than in times of better health ; for 
his mental power remained in all its freshness and 
vigour to the last week of his life. The periodicals 
of the Religious Tract Society were regularly sup- 
plied with papers, besides additions made by him 
to the series of books for the young. 

In the spring of 1854, the health of Mr. Mo- 
gridge became weaker ; and though medical aid was 
promptly sought, and all the care that the most 
affectionate solicitude could give was tenderly and 
perseveringly rendered, yet it became increasingly 
evident that his labours were drawing to a close. 
He thus wrote, under date April 20, 1854 : — 

^^ For more than three months I have been under 
the doctor's hands, an(| am, as it were, as weak 
as water : my hand shales, and my frame shrinks 
away. Under these circumstances, just for the 
present, I am able to do very little with my pen, 
and at times I cannot write ten minutes in the 
whole day. I am purposing to set my face towards 
the country or the sea, with the hope that Grod, 
in his goodness, will send abroad the breezes with 
healing on their wings." 

The summer, however, was spent in the chamber 
of sickness, in much languor and painfulness. He 
who had often cheered a weary pilgrim in the de- 
cline of life had now to apply to his own heart the 
rich consolations of the gospel. There was the 



LAST DAYS OF OLD HUMPHREY. 117 



same tappy and devout frame of mind^ tliere were 
the same humility and faith^ which had distinguished 
him in the buoyancy of life. Through the grace of 
the Holy Spirit, he was enabled to manifest that 
submission to the will of his Heavenly Father, to 
which he had so often exhorted others; though 
sometimes, in the greatest of his pain, the plaintive 
cry of the patriarch was forced from his lips: — 
'^Have pity upon me, have pity upon me, ye 
my friends; for the hand of Grod hath touched me.'' 
Job xix. 21. 

The confidence of the beloved suiFerer in the di- 
vine faithfulness was undiminished. In the strength 
of faith he not only adopted the apostle's words, but 
entered into a realizing conviction of their truth : 
^^For which cause we faint not; but, though our 
outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed 
day by day. For our light affliction, which is but 
for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding 
and eternal weight of glory:" 2 Cor. iv. 16, 17. 
"Though I know not the measure of my days," 
he wrote, " I well know there is but ' a step between 
me and death ;' and though I cannot tell what yet 
remains for me to do, willingly would I have my 
last act to be a deed of kindness, and my last breath 
to be a Hallelujah." 

It was in his nature to look at the bright side of 
every event. He saw an oasis in every desert and 
a glittering star in the darkest sky. Not only was 



118 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



he hopeful himself in the season of sickness, but he 
sought to make all in his family circle hopeful also. 
When he spoke, his eye was lit up with animation, 
and his words were full of encouragement. ^^ The 
blackest night will have a day;^' ^' Many a broken 
ship gets safe to land/ ^ "Give it up? No, never!" 
and ''Hope on to the end,'' are words that were 
frequently on his lips. 

The ground of his hope for eternal life had long 
been before the world. '' Without reservation, I 
renounce all other hope, and look to the Saviour, 
and the Saviour alone, for salvation. That Christ 
has died for me, is my hope and my joy, the rock 
on which I stand, the boat in which I hope to pass 
the swellings of Jordan. I have no other plea than 
this for justification at the judgment-day, and no 
other claim to enter the kingdom of glory." In 
this confidence he reposed to the end. The lowly 
and contrite state of mind which he cherished are 
also exhibited in a brief fragmentary paper he 
penned a short time before his decease. 

"MAKE HASTE TO HELP ME. 

"Hasten to help me, heavenly Father, for 
without thee I am as nothing, and can do nothing. 
* Make haste to help me, Lord my salvation.' 

" Help me to believe that thou hearest me when 
I pray unto thee. ' Hear my prayer, Lord, give 



LAST DAYS OF OLD HUMPHREY. 119 



ear to my supplications : in thy faithfulness answer 
me^ and in thy righteousness/ 

^^ Help me in subduing my stubborn will, and in 
humbling my pride, so that I may offer thee an 
acceptable sacrifice. ^The sacrifices of God are a 
broken spirit : a broken and a contrite heart, 
God, thou wilt not despise/ 

"Help me to confess to thee freely my trans- 
gressions. 'Lord, I acknowledge my sin and my 
iniquity. Deliver my soul; oh, save me for thy 
mercy's sake.' 

"Help me to believe that thou lovest me: help 
me to love thee. ' God is love.' Thou sayest, ' I 
love them that love me.' 

" Help me to see that Thou art ever with me. 
^ Fear thou not ', for I am with thee. The Lord is 
nigh unto all that call upon him.' 

" Help me to be patient under trials and afflic- 
tions. ' The Lord will not cast off for ever : but 
though he cause grief, yet will he have compassion, 
according to the multitude of his mercies.' 'Ye 
have need of patience, that, after ye have done the 
will of God, ye might receive the promise.' 

" Help me to forgive injuries. ' If ye forgive 
men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will 
also forgive you : but if ye forgive not men their 
trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your 
trespasses.' 

"Help me more diligently to read the sacred 



120 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



Scriptures, and better to understand their gracious 
contents. ^All Scripture is given by inspiration of 
Godj and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for 
correction, for instruction in righteousness.' 

" Help me to value more highly the means of 
grace, and to encourage more steadfastly the hope of 
glory, through the Lamb of God that taketh away 
the sins of the world. ^ Serve the Lord with glad- 
ness : come before his presence with singing. Enter 
into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts 
with praise : be thankful unto him, and bless his 
name.' 

" Help me more clearly to discern that Jesus 
Christ is my only hope and my all : having him, I 
possess all things. ' Whom have I in heaven but 
thee ? and there is none upon earth that I desire 
beside thee.' 

" Help me, at all times, to know and to do Thy 
sacred will : — 

"To love and serve the Lord on high 
With earnest, best endeavour; 
Then will I praise and magnify 
Thy holy name forever." 

The smallest offices of Christian friendship, and 
the humblest acts of kindness, called forth expres- 
sions of gratitude. The churlish temper of " Farmer 
Grumley," which he has so graphically described 
when it was soured by sickness, never brought dis- 
comfort into Mr. Mogridge's dwelling. The loving 



LAST DAYS OF OLD HUMPHREY. 121 



care of liis wife enkindled the tenderest emotions in 
his heart; nor were the most ordinary attentions 
of his domestic servant (who had been one of his 
household for more than thirty years — a fact alike 
honourable to both parties) received without some 
word of thankful acknowledgment. 

But while susceptible of the most grateful feelings 
for human kindness, his breast glowed with loving 
adoration to God for the support and comfort he 
found in the season of trial. ^^ Put me into your 
prayers, and put me into your praises/' he said, 
with much earnestness, as he grasped the hand of a 
friend after a profitable interview. His chamber 
was indeed illuminated by the hope of eternal life. 
" I never think of death,'' he said, "but I think of 
heaven :" they were so connected in his view, that 
the gloom of the one was irradiated by the glory of 
the other. 

"A good and excellent thing it is," he thus ex- 
pressed himself, "in the midst of the manifold 
changes of the world, to have our hearts fixed where 
alone true joys are to be found, and to be able to 
say, in deed and in truth, ^ My times are in Thy 
hand;' 'I will bless the Lord at all times: his 
praise shall continually be in my mouth. mag- 
nify the Lord with me, and let us exalt his name 
together.' " 

In the same Christian spirit, he wrote : — " Even 

now I am indulging in an imaginary scene : I am 
11 



122 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



looking onward to the time wlien I shall have been 
called away from the world; when this hand of 
mine shall be mouldering in the grave, and some 
reader, in a contemplative mood, shall be pondering 
my humble writings. I am neither ambitious nor 
solicitous on other points, but I do wish him to be- 
lieve that Old Humphrey had a warm desire ever 
glowing in his heart for the welfare of his fellow 
men, and an ardent anxiety to extend the glory of 
the Redeemer." Those who best knew the writer 
of these sentiments will not regard them as the 
lano;ua<z;e of egotism, nor of an undue estimate of 
the influence of his writings, but as the utterances 
of a sincere and loving spirit. 

A visit to Hastings was suggested as likely to 
prove beneficial to the poor sufferer. The account 
of his journey thither, and of his last days, is touch- 
ingly recorded by his heart-stricken widow : — 

^^ In the latter end of August, 1854, the dear in- 
valid felt a strong desire to visit Hastings, hoping 
that he should again be benefited by the sea-breezes, 
as in former years. Several days were fixed on for 
his departure before he could finally leave home, 
and then his weakness was such that many of our 
friends feared he would sink by the way, and never 
reach High-Wickham, a spot adjoining the above 
town. But God was better to us than our fears. 

u Previous to his departure from home, our kind 



LAST DAYS OF OLD HUMPHREY. 123 



and attentive medical attendant. Dr. Miller, having 
candidly told him one day, in reply to his inquiry, 
that he did not think that he could recover, the dear 
invalid took the doctor by the hand, thanked him 
for his frankness, and said, ' I must now buckle on 
my armour / to which Dr. Miller replied, ^ No, my 
dear sir, that is unnecessary ; your armour is already 
buckled on.' During the remainder of the day, I 
was struck with his unusual cheerfulness ; he seemed 
like one journeying pleasantly onward to his home, 
and we conversed peacefully and joyfully on the 
everlasting future. 

^' For the first few days after we reached Hast- 
ings, many unfavourable symptoms appeared, — dif- 
ficulty of breathing, increased weakness, and want 
of appetite; but, by degrees, the pure, fresh air, 
and a little gentle exercise, seemed to give a tem- 
porary toning to his whole frame, and revived our 
hopes of his recovery; for dear Old Humphrey 
could once more reach the East Hill, sit on the 
green turf, and gaze into the beautiful churchyard 
of All Saints, in the vale below. No wonder the 
wish passed through his mind, that, when his im- 
mortal spirit had passed from its frail tenement, his 
poor remains might have such a peaceful resting 
place. 

" Being in such a weak state of health, my dear 
husband wished for perfect quiet, and had requested 
those about him to give no intimation of his arrival 



124 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



in Hastings, nor did they : but, before many days 
had passed, there appeared a friendly notice of him 
in one of the public papers, as follows : ' Mr. Mo- 
gridge, better known to several readers by the 
familiar name of " Old Humphrey" — ^the usual sig- 
nature to his literary articles — is staying at High- 
Wickham, in very indifferent health. We trust his 
sojourn in this healthy locality will prove beneficial 
to him.' After this announcement, many residents 
and visitors were anxious to get a peep at ^Old 
Humphrey.' Some gave him a friendly glance as 
they passed the window, while others desired to 
shake him by the hand and thank him for the 
pleasure his pen had afforded him. He was greatly 
indebted to a lady, who very frequently took him 
delightful drives in an open carriage, so that he en- 
joyed the sea-breezes and fresh air without any 
fatigue, and felt at the time greatly refreshed and 
invigorated.^' 

From this favourite spot, Mr. Mogridge forwarded 
a few notes to his friends at the Tract Society, 
though the tremulous character of the writing 
showed the extreme feebleness of the hand that 
held the pen. 

^^ Hastings, September 6, 1854. 

^' My dear Sir : — It has pleased God to visit me 
with another sad relapse, which has reduced my 
strength to perfect weakness; nevertheless, through 



LAST DAYS OF OLD HUMPHREY. 125 



mercy, I have been enabled to journey to tbis place. 
It has compelled me to lay aside my pen. I am in 
the hands of my heavenly Father, and he will do 
what is right concerning me. If you send on 
Friday, please say how Mr. Jones is. A heavenly 
influence rest on the Society for good V 

His last note by his own hand to the Society 
bears the date September 21, 1854: — 

"4 Iliffh-Wickham, Hastings. 
"My dear Sir: — I forward a few pieces, and I 
trust there is not a bad one among them. Hastings 
air begins now to tell on me. I have treated myself 
with two rides with much benefit, and yesterday I 
hobbled the length of the little garden. Please tell 
me, have you been to Scotland? Does Mr. Jones 
continue better ? and what is the present state of 
the cholera? May God in mercy preserve our 
bodies, and influence our minds to seek his glory !'^ 

Among the numerous manuscripts he left behind 
him are many evidently unpremeditated efiusions, 
which may be regarded as indicative of the temper 
of his mind in the hour of heavy trial : — 

Press on with heavenly hope and godly fear ; 
The present hour is worth the future year ; 
The minute past, the fleeting moment o'er, 
Nor men, nor winged angels, can restore. 
11* 



126 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



I would wish, now my life is drawn near to its close, 
And its golden allurements are dross, 

To retire from its follies, its pleasures, and woes, 
And lie down at the foot of the cross. 



Take courage, though thy joys be few, 
Though rough the path thou dost pursue ; 
The Hand that brought thee hitherto 
Will hold thee up and bring thee through. 

In the month of October, by another hand, he 
addressed the Society for the last time : — 

^' It is now getting very chilly on the hills, and I 
have caught a trying cold. Something very like an 
ague fit held me shaking for an hour, but it has not 
returned/^ The world was now rapidly receding 
from his view. He had laid down his pen, no 
more to resume his delightful work. The shadows 
of death were on his path, yet all was bright above 
him. His afflicted widow's narrative will present 
to us his state of mind at this solemn season : — 

^'It will rejoice the hearts of many to know that, 
in the midst of much pain and great bodily weak- 
ness, the poor sufferer's faith, hope, and thankful- 
ness, were undiminished; and that, like David of 
old, lie could feelingly say, ^ It is good for me that 
I have been afflicted:' Psa. cxix. 71. His mind, 
during this trying season, seemed to attain a deeper 



LAST DAYS OP OLD HUMPHREY. 127 



solemnity than ever; and he saw more and more 
the beauty of holiness, and found in the precious 
promises of God's holy word all that was necessary 
to reconcile him to the merciful dealings of his 
heavenly Father, and to enable him to say, ^ I know, 
Lord, that thy judgments are right, and that thou 
in faithfulness hast afflicted me.' 

" A friend having alluded, in a note, to the useful 
writings of Old Humphrey, he remarked : ^ I am a 
poor, weak, sinful creature; no praise is due to me; 
give God all the glory. If he has enabled me in 
any way to be useful to my fellow-creatures, to him 
be all the praise !' 

" His suiferings were often very great, but not 
one murmuring or fretful word escaped from his 
lips. In a little piece which he dictated for me to 
copy for him, while lying in bed, he observed, ^ My 
burden is very heavy, but God, in his wisdom and 
goodness, has laid it upon me My furnace of 
trial is very hot, but a merciful Saviour is with me 
therein, comforting me and sustaining me. In his 
faithfulness he hath not failed me, nor been un- 
mindful of his promises. He has kept my lip from 
repining at his holy decrees, and my heart from re- 
belling against his righteous commandments. 

" 'I have laid myself down on my bed, 

I have lean'd myself back in my chair, 
To get ease to my heart and my head. 
If haply relief might be near; 



128 



* But the cordial that makes my heart glow 

Is to trust in my Saviour alone ; 
And the easiest posture I know 

Is to kneel very low at his throne.' 

"At one time my husband remarked, ^I am 
never alone ; I see God in the darkness, I hear his 
voice in the silence : he is ever present with me. 
His ways are often mysterious; there are many 
things we cannot now understand, but there is a 
needs-be for all our sufferings; much sin in us that 
wants purging away; and when in glory, the con- 
trast may heighten our bliss. Here we are forever 
sinning and sorrowing; but there we shall enjoy 
entire freedom from sin : peace and rest shall be our 
portion forever. Earth will be exchanged for hea- 
ven; gloom for an eternal weight of glory; and 
pain, sickness, and sorrow for everlasting joy. 
There is nothing fearful in death. What is it ? It 
is but a removal to our happy home.' 

" The prevailing attitude of his mind was that of 
deep humility and cheerful resignation. He was 
continually praising God for his many mercies, and 
for the freedom from pain which, at some seasons, 
he enjoyed; and he often repeated the verse — 

" * Sweet, in the confidence of faith, 
To trust his firm decrees ; 
Sweet to lie passive in his hands. 
And know no will but his.' 



LAST DAYS OF OLD HUMPHREY. 129 



"One day he said, ^Should any one ask me tlie 
ground of my hope of everlasting life, I would re- 
ply. It is this : I am a sinner, and Jesus is a 
Saviour ; he died to save the guilty, and he died on 
the cross for me/ 

" Yery, very often, he felt truly grateful for the 
peace and rest he enjoyed, and freedom from anxiety; 
and frequently expressed his thankfulness to his 
Heavenly Father for having raised up for him such 
kind friends as those connected with the institution 
he so long served. ^ How different it would have 
been,' he said to me, ^ if I had been obliged to exert 
myself to do something to supply my wants in my 
present feeble state ! But God is indeed very good 
to me; he has never left me, and he will not forsake 
me now. Grod is what he ever has been — a Eock 
and a Refuge to those who trust him ; a very present 
help in time of trouble. When his servants of old 
were in heavy trials, he was with them : " In all their 
affliction he was afflicted, and the angel of his 
presence saved them." It is even so now, and thus 
will it ever be. "He is able to save them to the 
uttermost that come unto God by him, seeing he 
ever liveth to make intercession for them.'' ' 

" Sometimes, in his peaceful, happy moments, 
when free from pain, he would burst out into a song 
of thanksgiving and praise to his merciful Redeemer. 
One evening I was particularly struck with the 
unusual sweetness of the tone of his voice ; it seemed 



130 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



as if the dear invalid was already anticipating the 
strains of glory. Now and then, when seated by ' 
his bedside in the twilight, he would ask me to re- 
peat to him a hymn. The following was one of his : 
favourites : — 

'Abide with me ! Fast falls the eventide; '. 

The darkness thickens : Lord, with me abide. J 

When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, j 

Help of the helpless, oh abide with me. 1 

'Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day; i 

Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away; ] 

Change and decay in all around I see : i 

Thou, who changest not, abide with me. i 

*I fear no foe, with thee at hand to bless ; 

Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness. ; 

Where is Death's sting ? where, Grave, thy victory ? I 

1 triumph still, if Thou abide with me. j 

'Reveal thyself before my closing eyes; i 

Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies : j 

Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee ; ] 

In life, in death, Lord, abide with me.' ! 

" Towards the close of his life, his Saviour seemed 
peculiarly precious to him — his 'All-in-all/ and he 
delighted to speak of him in his various attributes 

of love and mercy. He felt himself a sinner, saved \ 
by free grace alone, and continually sought the aid 

of the Holy Spirit to keep him from falling into \ 

evil. i 



LAST DAYS OF OLD HUMPHREY. 131 



^^One day, wlien much exhausted, the dear inva- 
lid tried to sit up a short time, but, being too feeble, 
swooned away, aiid was much convulsed, which 
alarmed our faithful servant and myself greatly. 
No sooner did he revive a little, than, with his ac- 
customed kind consideration for those around him, 
he began to hum a verse of a hymn, to cheer us 
and to prove to us that he was better. 

" Though wonderfully supported in the season of 
trial, yet, being naturally timid, the thought of 
losing my delightful earthly companion, my pro- 
tector and friend, on whose superior judgment I 
could ever so confidingly rely and from whose lips 
I had so often taken sweet counsel, no doubt cast 
an anxious shade over my brow; and once he sooth- 
ingly remarked, ' We know not what may be, but, 
perhaps, should it please God to remove me to a 
better world, I may, at times, be permitted to be 
nearer to you than you now imagine ; I may look 
down upon you, and watch all your little plans for 
the future ; smile on you, and be allowed to suggest 
good thoughts to your mind.' 

^'It is, indeed, ^a source of continual comfort,^ as 
my dear husband remarked, Ho be enabled to com- 
mit ourselves into the hands of a merciful Saviour 
and Redeemer, satisfied that he will do that which 
is right concerning us in all things. Surely, we 
may with confidence give ourselves up into His 
holy hands who died for us upon \\iq cross, and 



132 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



cast all our burdens upon him who has promised to 
sustain them/ 

^'Friends who saw his wasted and enfeebled 
frame were much astonished at his mental vigour. 
It was truly wonderful, at times, to observe and feel 
Hhat this flesh is no match for the mighty spirit.' 
But disease, in various ways, had made such fearful 
inroads into his constitution that it was impossible 
for human efforts to stay its progress, and the dear 
sufferer had not strength left to contend with another 
sad relapse. 

"It was very distressing to hear his incessant 
cough and to witness his great difficulty of breath- 
ing. On Sunday, the 29th of October, when suffer- 
ing from much pain and extreme exhaustion, he 
said to me, 'This is passing through the deep 
waters, is it not?' To which I replied, 'Yes, it is 
indeed ; but God is with you ; his rod and staff will 
comfort you.' Then, in a moment, fearing lest I 
should feel uneasy, he added, ' But I believe I shall 
get better again.' 

" He was truly grateful for every little attention 
paid to him, and always fearful of giving the 
slightest unnecessary trouble; and, cheerful to the 
very last, not long before he died he tried to sing, 

"Oh, to grace how great a debtor 
Daily I'm constrain'd to be ! 
May that grace, Lord, like a fetter, 
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.' 



LAST DAYS OF OLD HUMPHREY. 133 



*' A friendly call from a neiglibouring clergyman 
was a great comfort to him; and when he was gone, 
with a feeling of deep humility, he expressed his 
gratitude for the kind visit. 

^^ For the last two days his bodily sufferings were 
very great, but his faith and love were still greater ; 
and his almost inaudible voice was employed, at 
intervals, in prayer and praise, and in encouraging 
those about him to ^looh upivards.' 'We shall 
meet again,' he said to me, with a smile. 

''An hour before his happy spirit took its flight 

to glory, the Rev. John Cox, of Woolwich, called 

to see him ; he accompanied me to my beloved 

husband's bedside. It was a solemn season. We 

all knelt down, and the pious servant of God offered 

up a sweet and fervent prayer for the poor sufferer, 

then in his last agony. We afterwards stood around 

his bed in perfect silence. In a little time, his 

countenance became unusually calm; his mild blue 

eyes were turned towards heaven, and the expression 

of his dying face was sweet in the extreme — so 

calm and peaceful. It appeared to me that he was 

gazing on what we could not see; that he had a 

glimpse of the happy spirits who were already 

hovering around him and waiting to convey his 

freed spirit to glory. There was a look of rapturous 

surprise in the eye, and a transient smile passed 

over the lip that seemed to say, ' I am coming, I am 

coming.' Not till his under lip began to fall were 
12 



134 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



we aware that tlie soul had departed. We again 
knelt down, and the kind minister earnestly prayed 
that support and consolation might be granted to 
the poor survivor who had lost her dearest and best 
earthly friend. 

" Never shall I forget that impressive scene. Oh ! 
may we all seek for divine guidance, to enable us 
so to live, that we too may die the death of the 
righteous, and that our last end may be like his ! 
'Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of 
his saints :' Psa. cxvi. 15. 

" I have, indeed, been highly privileged in having 
had such an affectionate husband, companion, and 
friend; and, though painful to be the survivor, I 
feel thankful that my life has been spared to add to 
his comfort to the last. The Lord has wonderfully 
supported me hitherto, and will, I hope, increase 
my faith and confidence in him, and enable me, 
like my beloved husband, to go on my way with 
cheerful resignation, endeavouring to rejoice in his 
goodness and mercy." 

Mr. Mogridge departed this life November 2, 1854, 
aged sixty-seven. 

It is scarcely necessary to add to the preceding 
affecting account ; but the following particulars are 
not without a value, as showing the impressions made 
on the minds of those not of his household, who were 
privileged to visit the dying believer in his last hours. 



LAST DAYS OF OLD HUMPHREY. 135 



A Cliristian lady, resident at Hastings, in de- 
scribing lier interview, says : — " A ricli vein of piety, 
sentiment, and deep reflection, ran through his whole 
conversation. He told us that he had been brought 
down to the portals of the grave to have the bands 
loosened which too strongly attached him to earth ; 
there to learn perfect acquiescence in the divine 
will, and there to experience how sure was the sup- 
port in the hour of anticipated dissolution, and how 
soft at such a moment were those ' everlasting arms' 
which had borne him so calmly and so safely through 
the tempest-tossed ocean of life. He expatiated 
largely on the kindness of God in ' filling the hearts 
of so many with love to Him.' And as the tear of 
gratitude glistened in the eye, whilst the fingers 
were involuntarily lifted to wipe it away beneath 
the spectacles, we could not but feel that truly ' the 
law of love was on his lips, and the law of kindness 
in his heart -/ the peace of God was in his soul — 
the highest, most ennobling, and exalting pleasure 
Ms below the skies, and his the rich reward, the 
crown of glory above." 

The Rev. John Cox has furnished an interesting 
account of his interview in the chamber of death : — 
"On visiting a well known watering-place, to spend 
a few days with an esteemed friend, I was informed 
by her that Mr. Mogridge, commonly known as 
^ Old Humphrey,' was staying there in a very ill 
state of health, and that it was feared he would not 



136 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



Ions survive. He liad been out twice for a ride 
with my friend, and had enjoyed the scenery beyond 
what might have been expected from the state of 
his health; but now he was unable to leave his 
room. We visited him, but he was too ill to be 
seen. I called a day or two after; he was still 
worse. The next day, November 2, I went to in- 
quire, and was introduced to his chamber ; he was 
evidently sinking fast; the restlessness of death was 
upon him. Amid gentle moans, expressive of 
agony, arising from great difiiculty of breathing, we 
could distinguish the words, ^Lord,' ^ mercy.' I 
repeated to him some passages of Scripture, and 
engaged in prayer. From his manner, we suj^posed 
that he entered into the petitions offered ; but he 
had nearly done with prayer, and within half an 
hour after, as if dropping into a peaceful slumber, 
his gentle and sanctified spirit passed away without 
our even noticing the last sigh. 

"As I sat at -the foot of the bed, amid the still- 
ness of the dying chamber, expecting every minute 
that his ransomed spirit would leave its worn-out 
tent, — as I gazed on his strongly-marked, placid, 
yet attenuated features, at his late healthy frame, 
reduced to a skeleton by disease, — varied thoughts 
and emotions passed through the heart. There lay 
the hand calm on his breast, which had so often 
wielded the pen by which so many had been in- 
structedj pleased, encouraged, and profited. That 

I 



LAST DAYS OF OLD HUMPHREY. 137 



hand was still now; it would write no more. What 
a mercy, I thought, is it that divine grace took pos- 
session of that heart, sanctified that intellect, and 
employed that hand ! Had the talent with which 
he was endued been devoted to the service of sin, — 
had he tried to act the bufibon, to turn truth itself 
into ridicule, and make it his life's business to teach 
people to laugh, — and had he succeeded to his heart's 
desire, amused the multitude, and enriched himself, 
— how dreadful would it be to think of all this 
now, and while looking upon him as a dying man ! 
Surely this is a serious work which he is now doing. 
Death is a solemn thing; yes, and life is a solemn 
thing also, and so it appears as viewed from the 
dying hour. I blessed God, who had thus enabled 
him to consecrate his peculiar talents to the best 
of masters, and to endeavour to be ever teaching 
truth, and alluring souls to glory by the paths of 
pleasantness. 

"Again I thought, this good man will still live 
when he is dead. And so, a few moments after his 
departure, we who witnessed the scene kneeled 
around the breathless clay, so calm and placid in 
death, and gave God thanks for all his grace and 
goodness towards the departed, implored consolation 
and strength for the bereaved widow, and entreated 
that all present might be enabled to live nearer to 
God and more for his glory. I felt the value of 

the Saviour's words, 'He that liveth and believeth 
12* 



138 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



in me stall never die/ The active sj^irit was 
now emancipated, and had entered on an eternity 
of sinless service ; and divine testimony assured us 
that the deserted tenement would, 'when the Lord 
himself should descend with a shout/ 'be fashioned 
like unto his glorious body/ I rejoiced also that 
the truth of God would live and exert a benefici;;! 
influence, whatever instruments passed away; and 
that the works of him who now rested from his 
labours would yet be blessed. Let all God's saints, 
while life lasts and opportunity ofi'ers, seek to sow 
truth broadcast. Our dear old friend wrote some 
of his little telling papers, amid pain and weakness, 
only a few days before his death. His labour and 
his life ended very near together.*' 

Many are very anxious about the resting-place of 
the body when the spirit shall have departed to an 
eternal world. At one time Mr. Mogridge ex- 
pressed an indifference on this point, as the re- 
mains of those he loved while living had been en- 
tombed in widely distant lands ; but in his last visit 
to Hastings he selected a spot where he wished to 
be laid. He had often sat on the slopes of the East 
Hill, amid the blackberry-bushes, furze, and heath, 
looking on the outstretched expanse of sea, the 
ruins of the ancient castle on the AVest Cliff, and 
the deep ravine below, meditating on those subjects 
which he afterwards embodied in the papers he has 



LAST DAYS OF OLD HUMPRHEY. 139 



given to the world. Behind him was a pathway to 
his beloved Fairlight Downs. Beneath him, on the 
lower side of the hill, lay the picturesque grave- 
yard of All-Saints ; and there, in the upper part of 
the ground, against the upper wall, — at present a 
spot almost untenanted by the dead, — he desired 
that he should be interred. , 

His wish was faithfully regarded. The two sons 
of the deceased, with two old and attached friends, 
and a gentleman from the Tract Society, as its re- 
presentative, followed the body to the grave. A 
considerable number of visitors and towns-people 
were also present, watching with deep interest the 
last ceremony. 

It was a fine day, at the close of autumn, when 
the brambles and heath on the hill above the church- 
yard were tinged with a golden brown, and when 
the leaves of the trees were falling into the opened 
grave, that they bore the remains to their resting- 
place. The sun was shining in the sky with un- 
usual brilliancy for the season of the year, and cast- 
ing its rays on the wide waters. The heavens and 
the eart.h were bright and beautiful. It was a 
fitting time for such a burial; for it was such a 
day as the departed enjoyed when living, that the 
mourners followed his body to the tomb, in sure and 
certain hope that it would attain, through Christ, to 
the resurrection unto eternal life; and, as it was 
lowered into the ground, they thought of his own 



140 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



pleasant words : '^ Now another harp is heard in 
heaven ! Another shout of thanksgiving has re- 
sounded above the starry pavement of the skies ! 
Another burst of hallelujahs has welcomed an aged 
servant of the Redeemer to the mansions of the 
blessed." 

And now from the solitude of that graveyard a 
voice addresses the readers of Old Humphrey's 
Papers and memoir. It is the parting appeal. In- 
terpreted aright^ it calls to all to prepare to meet 
their God, by a life of faith in Christ, manifested 
in a life of obedience to the divine commands. 
Realize the great purpose of existence ; ponder on 
the rapid flight of time ; forget not that " the night 
Cometh when no man can work." Let the salva- 
tion of the soul be a personal, an immediate object; 
without delay seek mercy at the foot of the cross. 
Then, with Christ in the heart the hope of glory, 
let "every one according to his several ability'' 
seek to advance the cause of truth and righteous- 
ness in the earth. Whatever be the talent possessed, 
or the field of labour enjoyed, occupy it well and 
diligently. Whether you aim to do good by active 
beneficence, or by passive submission, whether by 
the utterances of the lip, or the written thoughts, 
or the diligence of the hands, see well to it that all 
is done for the honour of the Saviour and under 
a sense of the love and service you owe to him. 



LAST DAYS OF OLD HUMPHREY. 141 



^^ Wherefore, gird up the loins of your mind^ be 

sober, and hope to the end for the grace that is to 

be brought unto you at the revelation of Jesus 
Christ:'' 1 Pet. i. 13. 

A neat and substantial monumental stone marks 
the spot where he was laid, inscribed as on the fol- 
lowing page : — 



142 MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. 



TO THE MEMORY OF 
GEOUGE MOGRIDGE, ESQ. 

OF KINGSLAND, LONDON, 

BETTER KNOWN, IN NUMEROUS WORKS, AS 

"OLD HUMPHREY." 

IN HIS WRITINGS 

HE SOUGHT THE HOJ^OUR OF GOD AND THE 

HIGHEST HAPPINESS OF MANKIND: 

IN HIS LIFE 
HE ADORNED THE DOCTRINES OF THE GOSPEL: 

IN HIS DEATH 

HE REJOICED IN HOPE OF THE GLORY OF GOD, 

THROUGH THE MERITS OF JESUS CHRIST 

HIS SAVIOUR. 



CHEERFUL HE PASS D HIS DAYS BELOW, 

THOUGH THOKNY PATHS HIS FEET HAD TROD ; 

FOR HE HAD FOUND IN EVERY WO 

THE MINGLED MERCIES OF HIS GOD: 

AND THEY SUSTAIN'd HIM IN HIS FEARS, 

IN YOUTH, IN MANHOOD, AND IN YEARS. 

"OLD HUMPHREY.' 



HE DIED AT HASTINGS, NOVEMBER 2, 1854, 
AGED 67. 

THE COMMITTEE OF THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY 

HAVE CAUSED THIS STONE TO BE ERECTED, 

TO MARK THEIR HIGH ESTIMATE OF HIS 

CHARACTER AND WORKS. 



vv'^IS 






THE PORTFOLIO. 

The activity of ^^Old Humphrey's'' mind, and 
his readiness in composition, are seen in the large 
number of unpublished manuscripts he has left be- 
hind him. They commence with the early effusions 
of his youth, and range through different periods of 
his life, to his closing days. They vary in subject 
and style, being descriptive and didactic, on general 
topics and religious themes, light-hearted and grave, 
in prose and verse. Some of the pieces are marked 
by much tenderness of feeling, others by energy, 
and many by his peculiar, telling quaintness, while 
all are consecrated to truth and godliness. The 
Grleanings which follow are chiefly from his Port- 
folio and Study-table. 

A few poetical specimens have been interwoven 

in the preceding memoir : a further selection will 

now be made. 

u 143 



144 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



THE OLD MAN ON THE RIDGY POINT, 

See, yonder the old man comes again, with his 
stick, picking his way along the ferny, broken 
ground of the High Downs. He is a stranger to 
the place, and has perhaps come here for his health : 
he walks about alone. I have met him on the 
beach, where the billows fling their foam on the 
shingles, in the solitary glen, and the retired lane, 
always by himself, always musing. I saw him yes- 
terday, and the day before, and the day before that 
too ;-«^nd I marked his thin gray hair, for the wind 
was waving it as I passed by. He looked calm and 
thoughtful, but not melancholy. There was that in 
the old man's face that set me thinking. 

As he passed along the side of the Downs, the 
first time I saw him, the sun was setting beyond the 
windmills on the opposite hill ; the old Castle ruin 
looked dark against the sky, and the fishers' skiffs 
lay motionless on the sea. The old man stood on 
the Ridgy Point that commands a view of the valley, 
and I thought he was looking at the setting sun. 

The next time I saw him on the Downs, it was at 
the same hour of eventide; but the sky was over- 
cast, the wind had risen, the sea was rough, and 



THE OLD MAN ON THE RIDGY POINT. 145 



the fishing-smacks were rudely tossed about on the 
billows of the mighty deep. He stopped when he 
came to the Ridgy Point, and stood like a statue. 
I thought he was looking at the restless ocean. 

Yesterday it was a little later when the old man 
came to his favourite spot, for the sun had set, and 
the ocean was hardly visible. Once more he took 
up his accustomed standing-place, and fixed his eye 
intently; but I knew then that he could not be 
looking at the sea or the sun. " What can it be," 
thought I, " that draws him to the spot so con- 
stantly? What can it be on which he bends his 
eye so steadily?" When I walked near him, the 
truth flashed upon me at once. 

For three evenings together, as I have already 
said, had the old man come to the same spot at 
nearly the same hour. He made no difference 
whether the sky were bright or gloomy, or whether 
the day were windy or calm. I wonder that he 
does not walk with the people on the parade, when 
the band plays; but no, he keeps to the High 
Downs. 

In the valley below, and it may be about a fur- 
long from the Ridgy Point, is a church, with a 
graveyard attached to it. The church, is an ancient, 
gray, weather-stained building, that might almost 
pass for being a thousand years old. Both the 
tower and body of the antique edifice are roofed 

with red tiles, — somewhat out of keeping, cer- 
13 



146 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



tainly, — but age, and moss, and revolving years are 
beginning to make tbe tiles barmonize with tbe 
stonework. Tbe cburcbyard is in two parts, witb 
a row of large trees between tbem. It has hundreds 
of graves.* The old man was too much occupied 
to take any notice of me; he was looking at the 
gravestones. 

It might be that some friend of his was sleeping 
below one of the green hillocks or flat stones, and 
that the mouldering tenant of the tomb was rising 
in his remembrance. We do sometimes think affec- 
tionately of those who have been called away from 
the world, and especially if they have been very 
dear to us. Whether the old man was thinking 
thus, I cannot say. 

Perhaps he was thinking that his own days were 
nearly numbered; and that there was "but a step 
between him and death." No doubt such thoughts 
do now and then come over the aged with great 
power ; and quite natural it is that it should be so ; 
for what is our life? Truly, it is "a vapour, that 
appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth 
away :" James iv. 14. 

An old man looking on a churchyard must needs 
be enough to set him thinking of the past and the 
future. He sees how many have gone before him, 



*'*In this graveyard have since been added the remains of 
Old Humphrey. 



THE OLD MAN ON THE RIDGY POINT. 147 



and lie feels how shortly he must follow them. 
Death may be as near the young as the old, though 
we are not apt to think so. 

I should like to talk with the old man, and I will, 
if I can get a good opportunity, for there is nothing 
forbidding in his manner; but, on the contrary, 
much that is kind and gentle. He is coming nearer 
now; but, mark my words, he will turn off yet 
towards the church in the valley. The old man is 
thoughtful, as age ought to be; for 

" 111 gray hairs become a jester." 

He is not, however, sorrowful, but rather like one 
who is calmly and hopefully preparing for his latter 
end, saying in his heart, " I know that my Redeemer 
iiveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day 
upon the earth : and though after my skin worms 
destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God :" 
Job xix. 25, 26. "Though I walk through the val- 
ley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil ; for 
thou art with me; Thy rod and thy staff, they 
comfort me :" Ps. xxiii. 4. 

See there : the old man has just come to the edge 
of the broken ground. I felt sure that he would 
make a pause. He is now standing on the Pddgy 
Point, almost as motfonless as if made of stone, with 
his eyes fixed on the churchyard. How I should 
like to know what is passing through his mind ! 

Though we can only guess at the old man's 



148 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. « 



Ihouglits, we know well what are our own. The 
churchyard is before us as well as before him ) 
what, then, do we think of our latter end ? Are 
we so living that we may die the death of the 
righteous? Are we in time truly preparing for 
eternity ? 



HALLELUJAH. 149 



HALLELUJAH ! 

There are some words tliat require others to 
make them intelligible ; some are perfect in them- 
selves. Some have but little force and meaning 
when they are understood; others are full of power 
and significancy. Of this latter kind is the word 
Hallelujah ! or, Praise ye the Lord I 

But Hallelujah is not only a word, but a sentence 
and a song. Does the lowliest sinner, melted with 
a sense of the grace and mercy of his redeeming 
Lord, attempt to give utterance to the thankfulness 
of his heart ? his language is, Hallelujah ! Does the 
highest archangel desire to magnify the name of 
Him that sitteth on the throne of heaven ? a Halle- 
lujah bursts from his lips, resounding through the 
mansions of the skies. Hallelujah is the language 
of sinners and saints, men and angels, earth and 
heaven. " Praise ye the Lord. Oh, give thanks 
unto the Lord ; for he is good : for his mercy en- 
dureth forever :'' Ps. cvi. 1. 

Hallelujah is thanksgiving, praise, and exulta- 
tion. Fill the heart with hallelujahs, and it will 
give glory to God in the highest, and manifest good- 
will to men. It has been said that it would be no 
13^^ 



150 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



bad method to find out tlie lawfulness or unlawful- 
ness of our pleasures and tlie spiritual or worldly 
state of our affections, were we to ask ourselves this 
question in the midst of every enjoyment: '^Can we 
put up a hearty hallelujah at the end of it ?" 

When we regard ourselves and our Almighty 
Maker, — when we look at our lowliness and his 
loftiness, our weakness and his power, our folly 
and his wisdom, our exceeding sinfulness and his un- 
sullied holiness, — well may we lie down in the dust ; 
and when from the dust he lifts us up, when from 
the dunghill he raises us to be princes, can we do 
less than offer him our reiterated hallelujahs ? 

Let earth and heaven his righteous praise resound, 
And endless hallelujahs echo round. 

The young should praise the Lord for their youth 
and for the hopeful prospect that is before them of 
health and length of days. The old should praise 
the Lord for their years and for all the benefits 
bestowed on them in their past pilgrimage. Those 
who have neglected to call on the Lord have cause 
to thank him for his forbearance in allowing them 
time for repentance. And such as have been taught 
that the Lord is gracious and full of compassion, 
even to the pardoning of their sins, being justified 
through faith in the Son of God and sanctified by 
his spirit, should be loud in their thanksgiving; so 
that the young and the old, the awakened and 



HALLELUJAH. 151 



the unconverted^ have reason to mingle together their 
hallelujahs. 

Hallelujah is the aspiration of a spirit longing to 
manifest its grateful emotions and to glorify the 
High and Lofty One that inhabiteth eternity. The 
incense of praise is an acceptable offering to him; 
and Christians should be ready at all times to raise a 
real " Non nobis,'' a true and hearty " Not unto us, 
Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name give glory, 
for thy mercy and for thy truth's sake.'^ When 
the kingdoms of this world become the kingdoms 
of the Lord, praise will be the universal language. 
The people will rejoice in thanksgiving. 

And countless millions join the sacred song, 
And hallelujahs burst from every tongue. 

Do you love the Lord ? Where, then, are your 
hallelujahs ? Do you praise him for your common 
mercies, for the faculties of your body, soul, and 
spirit, renewed as they are day by day? — for air, 
food, water, and the light and warmth of the sun 
glowing in the skies ? Do you praise him for spiritual 
blessings, for his holy word, a mercy-seat, the means 
of grace, and the hope of glory through the atoning 
sacrifice of Jesus Christ ? The love to God that 
has no hallelujah may well be doubted, and the 
hallelujah that has no love to the Lord is a shadow, 
a deception, a mockery. The grateful spirit will 
speak, and so long as there are pardoned sinners in 



152 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



the worldj so long will ardent hallelujalis ascend to 
the skies. 

There are different kinds of hallelujahs,. from the 
loud and triumphant shout, " the Lord God omni- 
potent reigneth/' to the lowest whispered praise. 
Nay, there are inaudible hallelujahs, unheard by the 
ears of man, but clear and intelligible to Him who 
receiveth the sighing of the prisoner, who knoweth 
the desires of the heart, and by whom a book of 
remembrance has been written for such as fear 
the Lord and think upon his name. The lowest 
thanksgiving of the lowest repentant sinner will 
be accepted at that heavenly throne 

" Where pure devotion meets with equal grace, 
Wrapp'd in the simple strains of human praise, 
Or bvxrsting from the seraph's lip of fire." 

It is a good thing to give thanks unto the Lord, 
and to sing praises unto the name of the Most High. 
Day after day ascend psalms and hymns and spiritual 
songs to the heavenly throne, but the sabbath-day 
gathers a harvest of hallelujahs into the garner of 
God. We cannot truly praise God without feeling 
that we have something to praise him for; nor can 
we know ourselves without knowing that we have 
to praise him for every thing. 

Reader ! the holy word of God tells us that the 
time is short; that there is but a step between us 
and death, and that we shall all stand before the 
judgment-seat of Christ. Man dead in trespasses 



HALLELUJAH. 153 



and sins was lost, and none but an Almighty Saviour 
could have redeemed him. The sacrifice oiFered up 
on the cross demands not the services of . the lip 
only, but the humble acknowledgment of the spirit ; 
— not the hecatombs of the altar, but the halle- 
lujahs of the heart. Have you sorrowed for sin? 
Have you fled to the only sure Refuge from eternal 
wrath ? If not, clouds and darkness are around you, 
and death, everlasting death, lies in your path. 
Give no sleep to your eyes, nor slumber to your eye- 
lids, till the danger is past, the battle fought, and 
the victory obtained through Christ; for then will 
you indeed greatly rejoice, and then will you raise 
your hallelujah. 

Hark ! There are tidings of great joy. A ransom 
has been paid for sin; a Saviour has suffered for 
sinners. There is a crown of righteousness laid up 
for those who love the Lord. Are you a new 
creature in Christ? Has faith in his atoning blood 
been given you, and a holy determination to live in 
him, and in all things to do his holy will ? and are 
you rejoicing in the hope of eternal life ? Then 
the language of your lip and heart is, and will be, — 
nay, it must be, — Hallelujah ! ^^ Praise ye the Lord. 
Praise God in his sanctuary: praise him in the 
firmament of his power. Praise him for his mighty 
acts : praise him according to his excellent greatness. 
Let every thing that hath breath praise the Lord. 
Praise ye the Lord:" Ps. cl. 1, 2, 6. Hallelujah ! 



154 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



THE LOSS OF CHILDREN. 

The loss of children is among the heaviest trials 
that parents have to endure. How many a one 
who held his head high has been brought down to 
the very dust by the death of a child ! 

David, king of Israel, was a mighty man, and he 
had a heart often bold as a lion; but when the 
news reached him that his rebellious son Absalom 
was dead, he went up into his chamber and wept. 
We may judge by his language of the intensity of 
his grief. ^'0 my son Absalom, my son, my son 
Absalom!'' says he; "would God I had died for 
thee, Absalom, my son, my son !" 

''A voice was heard in Ramah, lamentation and 
bitter weeping; Rachel weeping for her children 
refused to be comforted for her children, because they 
were not :" .ler. xxxi. 15. That must be no common 
grief that refuses consolation, and this strong figu- 
rative description of it is very forcible. A mother , 
carried away into reckless affliction by her agonizing j 
solicitude for her departed child is an affecting \ 
picture. But why should we go back thousands of ! 
years ? Is not death among us now ? Is it not in < 
the habitation of our neighbours ? — nay, in our own j 



\ 



THE LOSS OF CHILDREN. 155 



dwellings ? Experience ! tell us somewhat of the 
scenes thou hast witnessed. Memory ! let thy scroll 
be unrolled, bestained as it may be with thy tears. 

We know one who carried himself high, and 
thought much of titles and worldly distinctions : his 
estate would have lost its value, in his estimation, 
if he could not have transmitted it unimpaired to his 
son. High as he was, and wedded to family genea- 
logy, yet was he kind and courteous to an extreme. 
How was he changed in a moment ! His child 
died ; his kindness and his courtesy forsook him ; and 
when we paid him a visit of condolence, a bear robbed 
of her whelps could hardly have been more irascible. 
For a season he completely abandoned himself to 
his grief. Why should we thus rebel against God ? 
'^Behold, he taketh away: who can hinder him? 
who will say unto him. What doest thou ?" Job 
ix. 12. 

Well do we remember Jennings, a village black- 
smith. He was a man strong, and proud of his 
strength. Seldom have we seen a broader back than 
his, or a thicker arm. His iron frame seemed tied 
together with sinews of wire, and yet for all this we 
have seen him sit down in his chair and cry like a 
child. We happened to call in when his poor babe 
lay dead in its little crib; and the strength of the 
strong man was brought low, and the pride of the 
proud man was humbled. Jennings would have 
borne pain and privation like a martyr, but he could 



156 OLD humphey's portfolio. 



not bear the loss of tlie little one that he had dan- 
dled on his knee and folded in his strong arms. 
When we saw such a man as Jennings sobbing 
and weeping, it was all in vain for ns to try to re- 
strain onr tears. 

It was in a lovely county, studded with beauti- 
ful lakes, tarns, waterfalls, and romantic mountains, 
that we made a call on an aged man whose thought- 
ful brow wore a gloom in the midst of his kindly 
attentions. He showed us the goodliest prospects, 
and took us to the most favourable points from 
whence we might observe them. He walked with 
us through the deep seclusions of his delightful 
abode, and he took us to a bowery alcove, where 
we seated ourselves beside him. It was here 
that, conversing on the shadowy past, his voice 
faltered, and the tears rolled down his time-worn 
cheeks. 

But why was it that the aged man was beclouded 
with grief ? Alas ! He had lost a daughter. With 
her he had gazed on the fair prospect around us; 
with her he had again and again roamed where we 
had wandered, and with her he had sat in the leafy 
bower in which we were then seated. We knew 
what it was to lose a child, and we could not be 
unmoved. It was the Laureate of England who 
was weeping beside us. 

We lately visited, among our Christian friends, a 
married pair who had lived in a sultry clime, where 



THE LOSS OF CHILDREN. 157 



tlie voice of the Lord is heard in the hurricane, and 
the torn plantations bow beneath the whirlwind. 
They had pitched their tent in England's milder 
clime. Peace had taken up her abode with them; 
and their numerous offspring were as olive plants 
around their table. The refinements of life were 
blended with holier hopes ; and books, drawing, 
music, and languages, though enjoyed, were as the 
dust of the balance compared with the things of 
eternity. The father looked on his progeny with 
afiectionate exultation, and the mother with con- 
scious pleasure, though she had her solicitude. 
So it is sometimes with the poor bird that ap- 
pears to be happy with her young, when, alas ! 
there are thorns in the nest which pierce through 
the down that lines it, known and felt by her 
alone. Time passed on, and we again called at 
that habitation. Death had been among its in- 
mates, and taken away a daughter. Few words 
were spoken about her by her bereaved parents, 
but those few told us that grief had been busy at 
their hearts. 

Be comforted, ye afflicted ones, in following your 
beloved to her heavenly home. "Had she been 
spared to you, how slowly could you have taught 
her ! and, in the full ripeness of her age, what had 
she been, when compared with what she now is V 
Christian parents of Christian children, take to 

yourselves consolation. 

14 



158 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



Look up with grateful joy, and weep no more; 

To you the precious privilege is given — 
Better than adding thousands to your store — 

Of adding angels to the host of heaven. 

" I wish you could see us in our happy abode, with 
the profusion of buds and blossoms that surround 
us ; for our house seems positively to laugh in the 
sunshine, and our children are as tractable as frisky 
little lambkins, all spirits, and yet all gentleness. '^ 

Such was the picture of happiness drawn by a 
maternal pen -, such was the language of our buoy- 
ant friend. We did see that happy abode, and we 
did see our exulting friend and correspondent ; but 
a shadow rested on her habitation, and grief was 
heavy at her heart. We walked with her to a village 
churchyard, where they had laid the little one who 
was almost as dear to her as the ruddy drops that 
warmed her heart. Her spirit clung with tenacious 
grasp to the mouldering tenant of the tomb, and she 
could not realize the loss she had sustained; the 
past was to her as a dream. What a wondrous thing 
is the love of a mother for her child ! 

There is a grief that sorrows for the dead, 

Yet realizes not the loss it grieves; 
That cannot learn to think its treasures fled, 

And gazes round, and mourns, and disbelieves. 
And ever and anon aflfections strong 

Fill up the vacant place that death has made 
With smiling shadows, and the heart is wrung 

With unsubstantial hope and fleeting shade. 



THE LOSS OF CHILDREN. 159 



It is not without pain that we refer to a spectacle 
we once witnessed. We were present at the vault- 
scene of an Irish funeral, when the apparently dis- 
tracted parents of the deceased child tore their hair, 
and beat with their hands upon the coffin-lid of him 
they were consigning to the grave, calling him back 
again to his disconsolate friends with the most in- 
temperate expressions of frantic sorrow. It was an 
afflicting exhibition of human infirmity. What can 
be more unchristian-like than such indecorous grief? 
Is not He who gave us life and liberty to number 
our days ? Are we to make ourselves greater than 
Grod, and to reverse his just decrees? How different 
to this is the language and spirit of Job: — ^'The 
Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed 
be the name of the Lord:" Job i. 21. 

There is a stormy, wild, and frantic grief, 

That madly rushes on the heart distress'd; 
That seeks not pity, hopes'not for relief, 

Refuses comfort, and despises rest. 
When fierce affection claims a right to rave. 

And wild and clamorous desires are given, 
That fain would tear the body from the grave. 

And pluck the spirit from its home in heaven. 

This is a sad state of things ; and better it is to 
humble ourselves under our afflictions than thus to 
increase them by our unreasonable grief. 

The case of a Christian widower with two children 
supplies us with a strong contrast to the foregoing 



160 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



manifestation of infirmity. The loss of his wife was | 

a heavy loss; and when his firstborn followed, he j 

clung with an intensity of affection to his remaining I 

treasure. His surviving child was smitten down by i 

sickness, and for a time life and death trembled in | 

the scale. His trial was severe, for his child died, 1 

but his faith failed not. His frame was worn with j 

anxiety, his face pallid with painful emotion, and i 
the sharp arrow of affliction was deeply embedded 
in his heart; yet not a murmur fell from his lips; 

but, on the contrary, resignation and acquiescence j 
to the will of his Heavenly Father were meekly 
manifested in his words and his deeds. 

There is a blessed grief that all transcends, — '] 

That knows too well how much has pass'd away | 

Of happiness and bliss, — yet meekly bends, i 

And bows submissive o'er its kindred clay; j 

Chasten'd and humbled by the trial past, ' 

The bleeding bosom heaves a conscious sigh; i 
But Faith is seen to smile amid the blast. 

And rebel thoughts and idol passions die. ' 

That such as live only for this world, and have no 
Christian hope either for themselves or their chil- 
dren, should be overwhelmed with affliction under \ 
bereavements, can hardly be cause of wonder; but 
followers of the Redeemer, though they may lament | 
the loss of those dear to them, cannot sorrow with- \ 
out hope, without denying their Christian profes- 
sion. He that can say, " I know that my Redeemer ; 



THE LOSS OF CHILDREN. 161 



livett, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon 
the earth; and though after my skin worms destroy 
this body, yet in my flesh shall I see Grod/^ — "God 
will redeem my soul from the power of the grave/ ^ — 
and "I know whom I have believed, and am per- 
suaded that He is able to keep that which I have 
committed unto him against that day/' — should be 
ever ready, without inordinate grief, to give up his 
friends, his children, his wife, and himself, into the 
hands of a faithful Creator and Redeemer. 

Christian ! the loss of children may be among 
the thorns in thy pathway through the world; but 
though they may wound thee, yet look unto thy 
Lord, and he shall give thee not only patience to 
endure them, but also strong consolation, and hope, 
and faith, and peace, and heavenly joy. 



14* 



162 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



A NEW CAROL FOR CHRISTMAS DAY. 

Awake! for this is Christmas morn, 

And raise your voices high, 
To celebrate the Son of God 

Descending from the sky. 
Ye winged Hallelujahs, rise. 

The Lord of life proclaim ; 
Ye loud Hosannas, rend the skies. 

And magnify his name. 

Did bright-eyed, burning seraphim 

Attend him on his way, 
And, flashing round his radiant car, 

The living lightning play? 
Did glittering stars adorn the crown 

That deck'd his sacred head, 
And glowing skies, with purple dyes, 

Their robes around him spread ? 



No seraph waved his shining wing. 
No splendour round him roll'd ; 

The Prince of peace among us came, 
A child of mortal mould.. 



A NEW CAROL FOR CHRISTMAS DAY. 163 



Ye winged Hallelujahs, rise, 

The Lord of life proclaim ; 
Ye loud Hosannas, rend the skies, 

And magnify his name. 

In pity, tenderness, and love, 

He came to save mankind ; 
Yet was he branded with reproach, 

And scorn'd by bigots blind. 
They bound his brow with cruel thorns, 

And, fiird with savage glee, 
Reviled him with their bitter taunts, 

And nail'd him to the tree. 

As mute and meekly as the lamb 

Adorn'd for slaughter goes, 
The dying Saviour bows his head 

Amid his cruel foes. 
Ye winged Hallelujahs, rise. 

The Lord of life proclaim; 
Ye loud Hosannas, rend the skies, 

And magnify his name. 

But see, he rises ; rolls away 

The dark sepulchral stone. 
And triumphs over death, and reigns 

On heaven's eternal throne ; 
Where angels, as they wave their wings, 

Their notes of rapture raise, 
And cherubim and seraphim 

Delight to sing his praise. 



164 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



Then let the throng, with, grateful song, 

Be merry while they may, 
And bid the crowd rejoice aloud, 

For this is Christmas day. 
Ye winged Hallelujahs, rise. 

The Lord of life proclaim ; 
Ye loud Hosannas, rend the skies, 

And magnify his name. 



A LEAF FROM THE BOOK OF AFFLICTION. 165 



A LEAF FROM THE BOOK OF 
AFFLICTION. 

The closer we connect our earthly objects witli 
our heavenly hopes, the greater will be our peace ; 
and the clearer we discern the hand of our Heavenly 
Father in our daily concerns, the more shall we 
reverence him, love him, and live to his glory. 

But not only as the general Fountain of all good- 
ness should we regard God as the bestower of those 
gifts which more directly come from him, as health, 
intellect, or knowledge of ourselves as sinners, re- 
pentance, faith, peace, and joy; but also of the 
lesser benefits we receive from our fellow- creatures, 
for the hearts of all are in his holy hands, and he 
moves them according to his will. A habit of at- 
tributing the kind offices of those around us pri- 
marily to God's goodness will not lessen our thank- 
fulness to those through whom we receive them. 

" God moves in a mysterious way 
His wonders to perform," 

and employs different agents. By an angel he com- 
forts Hagar ; by a raven, supplies the wants of Elijah ; 
sends a man of God to benefit the widow of Zare- 



166 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



phath, and a captive Hebrew maiden tliat Naaman, 
the Syrian, may be healed. 

I want, if I can, in an hnmble, earnest, and grate- 
ful spirit, to impress the mind of my reader, by 
a recent instance in my own experience, of the 
advantages of connecting earthly and heavenly 
things, and of acknowledging God's goodness in 
the kind attentions and friendly offices of those 
dear to us. 

It sometimes happened that, during my wander- 
ings in the vast, the silent and solitary straths of the 
Highlands of Scotland, some years ago, I was re- 
duced to great straits by weariness, hunger, and 
thirst, the recollection of which is still vivid in my 
memory. While noting down these remarks, scenes 
of an impressive character come back upon me, 
where the eagle and ptarmigan haunt the towering 
craigs, black cattle spread over the vales, wild deer 
roam the forest, and black-cocks and moor-fowl 
abound on the heaths and hills. Now and then a 
kilted Highlander tending his flock, or fishing, or 
crossing a river in a boat, imparts an added interest 
to the surrounding objects. Mighty Ben Macdhui, 
Ben-y-Grloe, and Ben Nevis also rise before me, 
with Big Benmor, gigantic Shehallien, bulky Ben 
Cruachan, and storm-riven Ben Ledi. Loch Tum- 
mel, Loch Rannoch, and lonely Loch Lydoch appear 
to be visible, with the dark, frowning Pass of Kili- 
crankie, and that glen of glens, shut up by its craggy 



A LEAF FROM THE BOOK OF AFFLICTION, 167 



barriers, gloomy Glencoe, in wliicli tlie clan ]Mac- 
donald were so ruthlessly murdered. 

Well, thougli I had much to enjoy, I had also^ as 
before intimated, at times something to endure; for 
high mountains are not ascended, and extended 
straths and swamps traversed, without trouble. For 
hours together I was wet to the skin, and ankle-deep 
in the watery bogs. On two or three of these 
occasions, when spent with toil, sick at heart with 
hunger, and feverish with burning thirst, I found at 
the little inns I came to such an unexpected and 
an abundant supply of comforts, in the shape of dry 
clothes and good cheer, as called forth my surprise 
and thankfulness. Among the things, however, 
which afforded me particular relief and pleasure, 
were the cool and delectable jams and jellies that 
were set before me in admirable profusion. Whether 
this arose from my exhausted and feverish state, or 
whether these conserves and sweetmeats were really 
superior to any thing of the kind I had ever before 
tasted, I cannot say; but the enjoyment they af- 
forded me was great, and left a lasting impression 
on my memory. 

At an early stage of my present illness, which 
then I had reason to believe would be unto death, 
one night, as I lay in bed in pain, greatly subdued, 
and sorely afflicted with unassuageable thirst, the 
remembrance of these Scotch preserves came upon 
me so forcibly as to produce a morbid and irrepres- 



158 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



sible wish once more to taste them. Having some 
kind Caledonian friends, whose faces I never yet 
saw, residing in an old Hall, and doubting not that 
they were provided with the dainties I so ardently 
longed for, I caused a letter to be addressed to them, 
making known my desire. No sooner was this done 
than I regretted the step taken by me, thinking it 
might be regarded as a strange request and too 
familiar a liberty; it was, however, too late to cor- 
rect my supposed error. 

About the time that I expected the letter to reach 
its destination at "Powder Hall,'' a loud single rap, 
at my own door, announced the arrival of a porter, 
bearing a white wicker hamper, which, on being 
opened, was found to contain a liberal supply of 
jams and jellies of varied kinds and of the primest 
quality. I feasted my eyes with the labelled pots 
of preserves ranged side by side. There they were : 
strawberry, raspberry, red currant, gooseberry, mar- 
malade, and a pretty little box of jujubes. For my 
kind friends to send them at all was a favour of 
which I was very sensible; but to despatch them 
with such promptitude, and, to me, marvellous 
alacrity, was an attention that much affected me. 
A near relative of the old hall family, residing with 
them, as though she must, in some way or other, 
have a share in the sending of the friendly hamper, 
forwarded me a neat and tasteful flower-stand, 
worked in leather, or gutta-percha; and, soon after 



A LEAF FROM THE BOOK OF AFFLICTION. 169 



the hamper's arrival, inquiry was made, at the re- 
«|uest of the worthy head X)f the family himself, 
whether the preserves arrived without injury, 
evidently with the view of repairing an accident, 
had any occurred, to prevent disappointment on 
my part. 

But think not, reader, that the kindness of my 
friends was limited to the sweetmeats ; they sent me 
also a book suitable to my state of affliction, together 
with sweet letters, from time to time, of their own -, 
and hymns, the reading of which often soothed me 
at eventide. The letters were not those common- 
place communications too frequently written to sick 
people, wherein seriousness and solemnity are put 
• >n for the occasion, and texts of holy Scripture 
are ostentatiously paraded to the eye, rather than 
lovingly commended to the heart; but chastened, 
mature, and experienced epistles of Christian piety, 
setting forth faithfully solemn Scriptural truths, as 
well as promises of divine consolation, showing, 
with the desire to minister to the comfort of the 
perishing body, a yet greater anxiety for the welfare 
of the undying soul. 

Here, then, was the link uniting earthly with 
heavenly things, and pressing on my consideration 
the goodness of God, even in the lesser events of 
life. I was just in the frame of mind to enable me 
to get good from book and letters. Again, I say, 
that the closer we connect our earthly objects with 

15 



170 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



our heavenly hopes, the greater will be our peace; 
and the clearer we discern the hand of our Heavenly- 
Father in our daily concerns, the more shall we 
reverence him, love him, and live to his glory. 

Oh, the unspeakable consolation of the presence 
of God in seasons of affliction ! Well may we pray 
that " the peace of God, which passeth all under- 
standing," may ^' keep " our '^ hearts and minds in 
the knowledge and love of God, and of his Son, 
Jesus Christ our Lord.'' In such seasons, with an 
humble, broken, contrite, and grateful spirit, we call 
to mind our mercies, and our language is, "Bless 
the Lord, my soul; and all that is within me, 
bless his holy name. Bless the Lord, my soul, 
and forget not all his benefits: who forgiveth all 
thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases; who 
redeemeth thy life from destruction ; who crowneth 
thee with loving-kindness and tender mercies:" 
Psa. ciii. 1—4. 

The kindness of our friends may be regarded as 
a brook by the way, to comfort us in our pilgrim 
course; whose stream becomes the more refreshing 
when we believe that the fountain whence it flows is 
the love of our Heavenly Father, who gave his Son 
to die for sinners; and it is no trifling alleviation to 
know, in the midst of our afflictions, that they pro- 
ceed from the same Almighty "source of goodness and 
mercy, and are sent for our advantage. Whether, 
then, we enjoy or sufi'er, "the grace of our Lord 



A LEAF FROM THE BOOK OF AFFLICTION. ITI 



Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship 
of the Holy Ghost/' should be the subject of our 
daily thoughts, thus uniting our passing interests 
with our everlasting expectations. 

Help me, Lord, in all my infirmities ; forgive 
all my transgressions, and abundantly increase my 
love and knowledge of Him, whom to know is eter- 
nal life. 

My grovelling spirit in thy mercy raise; 

Let holy objects to my heart bo given, 

That faith may mingled be with prayer and praise, 

And all my earthly ends with hopes of heaven. 
I 

Lord, let me see thy hand through life and death, 
"Where'er abroad my wandering feet may rove, 

And humbly serve thee till my latest breath, 
And love thee with an everlasting love. 



172 OLD HUMrHREY's PORTFOLIO. 



THE SUNNY SABBATH. 

There are many sources of consolation and joj, 
but hardly is there among them all a more grateful 
cordial to a man's heart, or a steadier friend in help- 
ing him through his troubles, than a sunny Sabbath. 
In this observation I allude not so much to the state 
of the weather as to the state of the affections ; not 
so much to the brightness of the day as to the 
buoyancy of the heart. Give a working-man plenty 
to do and good wages, and let him prosper every 
day of the week; but only let him misuse or think 
lightly of the Sabbath, and I promise him his 
heart' s-ease shall be scarce. But, whatever may be 
his cares, a sunny Sabbath will gently soothe his 
disquietude, and bind up the bones that have been 
broken. 

"A Sabbath well spent brings a week of content, 
And gives peace both to-day and to-morrow; 
But a Sabbath profaned, whate'er maj' be gain'd. 
Is a certain forerunner of sorrow." 

, To all, a day of rest, and peace, and holy joy, is 
a great advantage, but especially to one who labours 
through the week. What a shady seat or a draught 



THE SUNNY SABBATH. 173 



of cool water is to a toil-spent traveller, a sunny 
Sabbath is to a working-man. It eases and refreshes 
him, and recruits his strength and courage. True, 
it adds nothing to his weekly wages and takes away 
none of his daily labour; but it lightens his spirit 
and makes his heart thankful. 

A short time ago, I had such a sunny Sabbath 
that the very remembrance of it is joyful to me. 
If, reader,. you have never known a season in which 
the weather, your natural and spiritual affections, and 
all things around you, have contributed to make 
your heart, as it were, dance for joy, hardly shall I 
be able to make you understand my emotions ; but 
if you have known such a delightful holiday of the 
spirit, you will not begrudge the time spent in going 
with me to Fairlight Church. 

Fairlight is about two or three miles from Hast- 
ings, and the walk is a very agreeable one. After 
standing a moment or two on Minnis' Rock, to take 
a brief view of Hastings, the sea, High-Wickham, 
the West Cliff, the Castle Hill, and other heights, I 
turned my face eastward, and soon gained the higher 
ground. 

As I looked around, all things reminded me of 
repose and peace. The cattle in the fields and the 
sheep on the hills were grazing in quietude. The 
snowy clouds were motionless in the heavens; the 
leaves of the trees quivered not on the branches; 
and when I turned my eyes towards Windmill Hill, 

15* 



174 OLD hUxMPHrey's portfolio. 



tlie mill, instead of wildly brandishing its arms 
in the air according to its usual fashion, stood 
as still as if it were a picture painted against the 
sky. 

By degrees I grew yet more grateful and happy, — 
so much so that I marvelled at the intensity of my 
own joy. As the lark rose up on high, I blessed 
him ; the sea-cobs, as they waved their lengthy 
wings above me, bore away with them a kindly wish 
from me for their welfare ; and the very hawk that 
was hovering in the air over his prey had from me 
no expression of hatred or reproach : all I wished 
was that if he must kill his bird, or his field-mouse, 
to satisfy his hunger, he would do it in the quickest 
way possible, and not protract its sufferings. 

It was delightful to find my heart going forth 
towards every creature that God had made, and still 
more so towards human kind, whether sojourners in 
the crowded city, or wanderers of the solitary wilder- 
ness. I had neither head-ache nor heart-ache ; all 
my cares were forgotten, or swallowed up in my 
thankfulness. Who was I, that such an unbounded 
measure of delight should be awarded me ? 

In that buoyant state of my spirit, I saw and felt 
nothing but gladness. How bright were the heavens, 
how blue the sky, and how green the grass beneath 
my feet ! The air was fresh and pure ; and, as I 
walked through the fields., my pathway was decked 
on either side with daisies and dandelions. The 



THE SUNNY SABBATH. 175 



hedgerows were adorned with beauty, and the very 
brambles were covered with blackberries. The sun 
that was beaming above me seemed to shine into 
my heart. A sensible presence of God's goodness 
gladdened my spirit, and every now and then I burst 
into an audible hallelujah. I felt like one in love 
with heaven and earth, the "sea and all that in 
them is.^' Prayer and praise were alternate on my 
lips. All nature appeared to rejoice. The hills 
seemed to " break forth into singing,'^ and the trees 
of the fields to " clap their hands. ^' 

Not only my natural but my spiritual affections 
were also called forth. I felt that it was indeed the 
Sabbath-day, and that the "sound of the church- 
going bell" was then inviting me to the sanctuary 
of the Lord, " to render thanks for the great benefits 
received at his hands, to set forth his most worthy 
praise, to hear his most holy word, and to ask those 
things which are requisite and necessary as well for 
the body as the soul.'' Times without number had 
I used them without emotion, but now I felt the 
full import of the words — 

" Lord, how delightful 'tis to see 
A whole assembly worship thee ! 
At once they sing, at once they pray. 
They hear of heaven, and learn the way." 

As I entered the portal of Fairlight Church, my 
heart was drawn towards my fellow-worshippers, and 



176 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



I felt it to be a good thing to wait upon the Lord. 
The first words spoken by the minister were not only 
a textj but a sermon in themselves : "If we say that 
we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth 
is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful 
and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us 
from all unrighteousness :" 1 John i. 8, 9. Had I 
heard nothing more than these words, I should not 
have returned home empty-hearted. 

Pleasant as food to the hungry are kind words to 
us, when we feel kindly. At the end of the gospel 
was the following mercy-loving admonition: '^Let 
all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamour, 
and evil-speaking, be put away from you, with all 
malice. And be ye kind one to another, tender- 
hearted, forgiving one another, even as God for 
Christ's sake hath forgiven you :" Eph. iv. 31, 32. 
What heart-burnings and unkindness would be 
prevented among us by a general attention to this 
advice of the apostle, and what briers and thorns 
would be removed from our paths ! 

The sermon followed; and faithfully were we 
told of the idol that the world is ever setting up 
before us in its seductions and temptations, and 
earnestly were we reminded that there was no middle 
course. We must either bow down to the idol, or 
worship in sincerity the Grod of Shadrach, Meshach, 
and Abednego. 



THE SUNNY SABBATH. 177 



As I returned from Fairlight Churcli, my fellow- 
worshippers, by degrees, turned off along the lanes 
and fields, till I found myself alone. No, not alone; 
for I had His presence who had so wondrously lifted 
up my heart in joy and with thankfulness. My 
soul truly magnified the Lord, and my spirit re- 
joiced in God my Saviour. 

A faithful and affectionate sermon, afterwards 
heard at St. Mary's, did much to rekindle the fer- 
vour of my morning emotions, so that my head was, 
as it were, anointed with oil, and my cup made to 
run over. A sunny Sabbath of this kind is not 
often passed. Would that it were otherwise ! Would 
that every spirit that is bowed down could be fre- 
quently lifted Tip, and every heart that is sorrowful 
be filled with joy ! 

Some of my readers may think me too serious, 
while others may regret that my remarks are not 
so weighty as they should be. Meekly will I 
endeavour to bear either, or both, of these re- 
proaches. I have faithfully depicted my emotions, 
with a kind intention, and hope thereby to call 
forth sunny recollections in other hearts. Hardly 
can it be out of character in an old man to en- 
courage his younger friends to gladden their pre- 
' sent and brighten their future hours by faith in that 
merciful Saviour who died that we might live 
forever. 



178 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



Corue sudden death, come flood, or flame, 

Who trust in a Redeemer's name 

Are still secure, for thrones on high 

Await their entrance to the sky; 

And crowns of gold their brows shall wear, 

Who thus, through Christ, for death prepare. 

Long shall I remember Fairliglit, and Fairlight 
Church ; and many things shall I forget before my 
sunny Sabbath will be blotted from my memory. 



OLD HUMPHREY AT HASTINGS. 179 



OLD HUMPHKEY AT HASTINGS. 

Bear with an old man's prattle, for his heart 
Beats lovingly for thee, and all mankind. 

^' Stands Hastings where it did ?" said I, trying 
to be cheerful, as I hobbled along with difficulty, 
supported by two porters, from the railway to the 
vehicle engaged to carry me to my place of destina- 
tion. But no, it would not do. I was too much 
subdued and exhausted by my transit from ''the 
mart of all the earth/^ to be cheerful. I had been 
carried, on account of extreme weakness, from my 
cab at the London Bridge Station, to the carriage 
that was to bear me onwards; and some feared that 
I should sink by the way, and never reach Hastings. 
It pleased the Father of mercies that it should be 
otherwise. 

But, if not cheerful, I was at least grateful, for I 
was not unmindful that, in all my preceding visits 
to this delightful locality, the sea and land breezes 
had gathered round me with healing on their wings, 
and I was sanguine enough to hope and trust that I 
should again be benefited with a like result. I 
looked around with a thankful heart to the great 
Giver of all good, and with kindly feelings for my 



180 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



fellow-passengers, as well as for the porters bustling 
about me, and tbe driver and bis borse waiting for 
my accommodation. 

As I moved onward in an open carriage, tbe 
fresb, gentle breeze much revived me, and familiar 
objects presented themselves. Two of the three 
windmills near the West Hill were at work- the 
old castle, in ruin, reminded me that, like my own, 
the best of its days were passed. The sea was roll- 
ing along its sparkling billows, as it was wont to do 
thousands of years ago ; bathing-machines stood on 
the shore, their wheels partly in and partly out of 
the water. The Marine Parade was peopled with 
visitors ; the great dial, hanging over High street, 
pointed to a quarter-past five; the magnolia, for 
such I take it to be, covering the front of the house 
of Earl Waldegrave, was adorned with magnificent 
flowers. All things appeared as I had before seen 
them, only that the old man, the knitter of night- 
caps, who for so many years had occupied a corner 
at the entrance of the London road, was no longer 
an inhabitant of the world. 

For the first few days of my sojourn at Hastings, 
I could not go from one room to another, even with 
help, without difiiculty; but now, with a stick and 
a friendly arm, I can walk a hundred yards, and 
perhaps two hundred. This is to me a source of 
great enjoyment and thankfulness, and it has sug- 
gested a thought to me that would afibrd me much 



OLD HUMPHREY AT HASTINGS. 181 



satisfaction if it could be rendered practical; and I 
see no good reason why it should not. 

What is the use of our feeling grateful, unless we 
embody our emotions in useful or benevolent action ? 
Deeds of love to man are the very soul of thanks- 
giving to Orod. When Simon Peter declared that 
he loved the Saviour, the latter required some proof 
of his assertion : '■^ Feed my sheep/^ and " Feed my 
lambs.'' 

The number of visitors to Hastings is great, and 
it is not unreasonable thence to conclude that the 
greater part of them must derive health or pleasure 
from their temporary residence. For this they are, 
or ought to be, grateful ) why not, then, make mani- 
fest their gratitude by some act of kindness to a 
place that has so largely contributed to their benefit ? 
Some opulent visitors have the means of doing good 
on a large scale, while most of us can do it only on 
a small one. It is not, however, the amount, but 
the motive of the giver, that ennobles the gift. 
Hastings has charities whose funds are low ) schools 
that require support; poor fishermen, who, from 
shipwreck, want of success, and other causes, suffer 
much ; and sick and poor people standing in need 
of assistance. Now, if every grateful visitor, in a 
spirit of thankfulness, would do ever so little in the 
way of philanthropy, the aggregate would be very 
considerable. Were a moiety only of those in the 
long lists of visitors that appear in the newspapers 
16 



182 



to act upon this suggestion, what a desirable acces- 
sion it would prove to the cause of humanity, and 
what a noble number of good Samaritans might 
thereby pour oil and wine into the wounds of the 
afflicted ! 

It is said that on the overland passage across the 
desert to India there is a tree covered with frag- 
ments of dress, and other articles, hung there by 
pilgrims and travellers, to show their gratitude for 
the protection and safety vouchsafed them; and in 
Roman Catholic countries, it is a common thing for 
such as profess to have been cured by miracles to 
leave behind them their crutches or other manifes- 
tations of past infirmity, by way of thankfulness. 
Let us not, then, be outdone by Mohammedans and 
fanatics ; but, as a Christian people, show our thank- 
fulness in a Christian manner. 

In one of my walks in the Hackney Fields, Lon- 
don, before my illness, I found a poor beetle in my 
pathway, on his back, vainly struggling and striving 
to recover his feet. ''Friend Sable-coat," said I, 
playfully, ''the proverb has it, that 'a friend in need 
is a friend indeed,' and I have arrived just in time, 
it seems, to verify the adage ', but as thou art really 
down, there will be no harm in my profiting by thy 
fall." So, taking out my glass, I attentively ex- 
amined his curious formation; after which I gently 
laid across him a blade of grass, which enabled him 
once more to get on his legs and hide himself in a 



OLD HUMPHREY AT HASTINGS. 183 



hole in the ground. Whether he thanked me or 
not, I cannot say, not knowing the way in which 
such creatures express their thanks } but I felt quite 
certain, whether I had increased his happiness or 
not, I had added some little to my own. 

Now in Hastings there are human beetles on 
their backs, or, in other words, cases of distress 
which need assistance. Gentle reader, let me be- 
seech you to act upon my suggestion. I wish 
neither to apportion the stream of your benevo- 
lence, nor to direct the express channel through 
which it should flow, but only to urge you to do 
something, be it much or little, of a useful or 
charitable character; not ostentatiously, but mo- 
destly; and if your name remain unknown, so 
much the better. Should you be at a loss how 
to proceed, not knowing suitable objects for your 
sympathy, ministers of the gospel, as well as the 
conductors of newspapers, with other influential 
and well-known benevolent persons, would most, 
if not all of them, doubtless, willingly and faith- 
fully assist in the disposal of your bounty. 

While we offer to Grod thanksgiving for our 
abundant harvest, and pray that the sword may 
be scabbarded and the pestilence stayed, let us 
be neither unmindful of our own particular bless- 
ings, nor ungrateful for them. In penning this 
paper, I have three objects in view. First, kindly 
to reprove a spirit of repining in which too many 



1^4: OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



indulge ; next, to call out thankfulness in tlie heart; 
and lastly, to move the hand to gentle deeds of 
charity. 

Having just forged a fable in my mental smithy, 
on the subject of discontent, I will with it close my 
present remarks : — 

A well-shaped horseshoe, as it hung against the 
wall in a blacksmith's shop, bitterly complained of 
the ill-usage to which it had been subjected. " No 
one," said the shoe, in a whining tone, "has en- 
dured the fiery trials through which I have passed, 
without any respite being allowed me. The hard- 
hearted sledge-hammer and anvil were my enemies, 
and between the two I was cruelly treated, and 
found no pity. I was beaten by them unmercifully, 
and the blows I received at their hands would have 
killed an ox; as I said before, no one has endured 
the fiery trials through which I have passed,'^ 

" Hold your foolish tongue," said a ploughshare, 
which had been sent to be repaired, "unless you 
can talk more wisely. Both you and I have been 
greatly benefited by the ordeal through which we 
have passed, and are valued highly by those who 
once might have despised us. Once, we were 
useless pieces of iron, but now you are a useful 
horseshoe and I am a respectable ploughshare." 
. Thus seasonably admonished, the horseshoe be- 
came silent, and was never afterwards heard to 
complain. 



OLD HUMPHREY AT HASTINGS. 185 



We seldom commit a greater error than tliat of 
repining at our trials and afflictions, for our Hea- 
venly Father often renders these the medium of his 
greatest mercies. ''No chastening for the present 
seemeth to be joyous, but grievous : nevertheless, 
afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteous- 
ness unto them which are exercised thereby." The 
complaining horseshoe, though a fiction in the fable, 
is a fact when applied to mankind; for multitudes 
of repiners have become dumb when experience 
has proved the value of their bitterest trials. 
Fear the Lord, love him, and trust him, and 
then — 

If properly improved, thy grief, and pains. 
And heaviest losses, all wiU turn to gains; 
Hope, peace, and joy, from trouble will arise, 
To bless thee, and prepare thee for the skies. 



16* 



186 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



THE NiaHT-SEASON. 

When in the night I sleepless lie, 

My soul with heavenly thoughts supply. 

The season of night is a season of quiet, tran- 
quillity, and peace. The labourer has ceased his 
work, and the tradesman his traffic. The turmoil 
of the day is terminated, and the hubbub is over. 
No more is seen the smoking chimney and the 
hurrying throng. No longer is heard the clicking 
loom and the clanging hammer. The workshop, 
the counting-house, and the exchange, are closed. 
The stars light up the sky, the moon walks forth 
in her majesty, and man retires to his repose. 

The night-season pours its oil and balm into the 
wounds that we daily receive in the battle of life. 
The disappointed spirit becomes more reconciled, 
the ruffled temper is soothed, the angry fires that 
glow within us expire for want of fuel, and sleep 
robs us of our cherished animosities. These are 
among the manifold blessings that night bestows. 

The night-season is a necessary and pleasant 
break into the daily routine of our lives. It gives 
relief to the screwed-up energies of enterprise, 
and removes from the mind the weight of its re- 



THE NIGHT-SEASON. 187 



sponsibilities. It affords an interval of repose^ an 
opportunity for tliouglitfulness, a pause for prepa- 
ration, and a breathing time in our wrestling with 
the world. 

The night-season is a season of mercy, conferred 
upon us by a merciful God for a merciful purpose. 
Then gentle sleep falls upon us, refreshing our 
wearied bodies, and effectually restoring the dis- 
turbed tranquillity of our minds. Then exhausted 
nature sinks into oblivious forgetfulness of pain and 
care, and e;ains streno-th for its future exertions. 
Gently do we lie down, and sweetly do we take our 
rest, for the Lord sustaineth us. 

Who is there that in his commerce with the 
world falls not into errors ? The sleepless hours of 
night are often profitably employed in a calm re- 
vision of the occurrences of the day. Haply we 
have spoken hasty words, done unkind deeds, failed 
in paying due respect, and neglected those who 
have a claim on our attention. With our heads on 
our pillows, and darkness around us, we can rectify 
our mistakes, recall our angry epithets, determine 
to pay respect to all, and resolve to make resti- 
tution. 

In the day we are exposed to many temptations 
from which in the night we are free. We retire, 
as it were, into our own hearts. We have no 
fawners to deceive us; no flatterers to praise us 
and make us think more highly of ourselves than 



188 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



we ougtit to think. Conscience and truth speak, 
and will be heard. Truly the night-season is a 
suitable time to catechize ourselves. Whence came 
I ? Where am I ? and, Whither shall I go ? are, 
in the night-season, questions which sink into our 
souls. 

We have troubles that are known only to our- 
selves and to Him who knoweth all things; and 
in the night-season we spread them before the 
Lord. We supplicate his aid, feelingly, fervently, 
and vehemently, and make our vows unto him. 
We say, "■ Lord, if thou wilt give me the thing I 
desire," or, '^Lord, if thou wilt remove the thing 
that I fear, theti will I turn unto thee with full pur- 
pose of heart; then will I be thy servant forever." 
The night-season is 'often an humbling season, an 
outpouring season for the soul, a season of mourn- 
ing, of relief, of consolation and joy. 

We have most of us lost some that we have 
loved ; it may be a beloved son, in whom we have 
rejoiced, or a dear daughter, in whom we delighted, 
or both ; and in the night-season we commune with 
them in our minds. We remember them as they 
were, and indulge our aifections; we think of them 
as they are, and we stretch forward into an eternal 
world, rending the vail that separates us, and 
realize that day when we hope, nay, trust, again to 
be united to them. In the midst of our tearful re- 
miniscences we take heart: "I know that my Re- 



THE NIGHT-SEASON. 189 



deemer livetli" comes to our relief, and the words, 
also, "I am the Resurrection and the Life; he that 
believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he 
live; and whosoever liveth and believeth in me 
shall never die :" John xi. 25, 26. 

True it is that in the night-season we have often 
strange dreams. We get into situations of danger 
and circumstances of overwhelming trouble. We 
appear to be so cast into the horrible pit and the 
miry clay that there is no hope for us. We are 
down, and we can never rise up again; but then, 
in the season of our extremity, we awake, and 
behold! it is a dream. 

The season of night defends us from so many 
evils, and confers upon us so many blessings, that 
we cannot be sufficiently grateful for so invaluable a 
gift. In that blessed world which is to come, it 
will not be required; there will be no night there- 
in the presence of the Lord there will be fulness 
of joy and pleasures for evermore. ''Blessing, 
and honour, and glory, and power, be unto Him 
that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb, 
forever and ever :" Eev. v. 13, 



190 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



IS THERE A GOD? 

Now breathes the ruddy morn around 

Her health-restoring gales, 
And from the chambers of the east 

A flood of light prevails. 

Is there a God ? yon rising sun 

An answer meet supplies; 
Writes it in flame upon the earth, 

Proclaims it round the skies. 

The pendent clouds, that curtain round 

The sublunary ball, 
And firmament on high, declare 

A God that governs all. 



The warbling lark, in realms of air, 
Has triird her matin lay ; 

The balmy breeze of morn is fled — 
It is the noon of day. 

Is there a God ? hark ! from on high 
His thunder shakes the poles ; 

I hear his voice in every wind, 
In every wave that rolls. 



IS THERE A GOD ? 191 



I read a record of his love, 
His wisdom, and his power. 

Inscribed on all created things — 
Man, beast, and herb, and flower. 



The sultry sun has left the skies. 
And day's delights are flown ; 

The owlet screams amid the shade, 
And niglit resumes her throne. 

Is there a God ? With sacred fear 
I upward turn mine eyes ; 

There is, each glittering lamp of light- 
There is ! my soul — replies. 



If such convictions to my brain 
His works alone impart. 

Oh, may the wisdom of his word 
Inscribe them on my heart ! 

That, while I ponder on his deeds. 
And read his truths divine, 

Nature may point me to a God, 
And grace may make him mine. 



192 



HOW DO YOU GET ON? 

" How do you get on ?" is a very commonplace 
inquiry ; we have all asked it and answered it again 
and again. But commonplace as is the question, 
it is an important one, and capable of a very ex- 
tended application. True it is that the phrase 
belongs more to low life than to the more refined 
circles of society ; yet is it not on this account to be 
passed by. He who would get wisdom must both 
climb and stoop to attain it, as the botanist gathers 
his plants from the highest hills and the lowest 
valleys. 

Most of us learn much more from low life than 
from high life — at least I do ; and for this simple 
reason — it is easier to get at. Where I speak once 
to a nobleman, I speak many times to a poor man ; 
and for every ride I have in a carriage-and-four, I 
have at least a hundred in an omnibus. 

" How do you get on ?" said a ruddy-faced man 
to one habited in a great-coat, whose cheeks were 
thin and pale. ^'Very slowly,'^ replied the invalid. 
"This ague that has laid hold of me has almost 
brought me to death's door. Last week I shook 
till my teeth chattered in my head, and yesterday I 
was in a high fever^ with hot skin, full pulse, furred 



HOW DO YOU GET ON ? Wi 



tongue, and a headache almost unbearable. My 
doctor says that if I do not get out of the house I 
now live in, all the medicine in the world will 
never keep me well, for that the marshy ground 
about it is enough to give the ague to anybody/' 

This conversation, taking place as it did in my 
hearing, set me thinking of the difficulty there was 
in getting health, and I pitied from my heart not 
only the man with the ague, but every son and 
daughter of Adam who had to pass through the 
furnace of affliction. The lesson, whether obtained 
from high or low life, that teaches us to feel for 
others, is worth learning. A wondrous thing it is, 
knowing as we all do that we have but a life-interest 
in this world, that we are not more anxious to 
secure a freehold in the world that is to come. 

" How do you get on ?" said a well-to-do sort of 
a man, seemingly in trade, to another, who appeared 
to be a tradesman too, but sadly under the weather. 
^'Get on!'' replied he; ^^not at all; it is quite as 
much as I can do to keep on my legs. My prices 
are lower than they were, while all the materials I 
use are rising ; and then what do you think of coals 
being three pounds a ton ? I tell my wife to get 
ready with the children to move to a bigger house — 
the union workhouse ', and if things go on much 
longer as they do now, it may turn out to be no 
joke after all." 

I listened to the poor tradesman's account with 

ir 



194 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



mucli sympathy, for it is a hard thing, with a wife 
and children, to look coming poverty in the face 
without shrinking, I was not sorry that his words 
had reached my ears, for they made me feel for all 
who were struggling to maintain their position in 
the world. Truly, a man had need to seek, through 
Christ, a home above the stars, seeing that there is 
so much trouble below them. 

''How do you get on?" said one young man to 
another who was studying medicine and surgery at 
a London college. " Oh I it is no easy work to get 
on at all; for what with reading, attending to the 
patients, dissecting, and hearing lectures, I can 
hardly tell which way to look. General and 
structural anatomy, of themselves, to say nothing 
of medicine and chemistry, will take a lifetime 
fully to understand them. Why, there are in the 
human frame two hundred and forty-six bones, and 
we ought to be as much at home with them as with 
our old gloves. But what are these, compared with 
the muscles, veins, arteries, and other parts of the 
human frame? I heard a lecture yesterday that 
will set me thinking for a month. To tell the 
truth, I get on very slowly." 

Ay, thought I, it is up-hill work to acquire 
knowledge of any kind. What the student said 
made me think it was a sad pity that so much time 
should be wasted as there is in the world, when so 
much of it was needed to obtain knowledge. 



HOW DO YOU GET ON? 195 



^' How clo you get on ?" said one old man to 
another as tliey came out of a place of divine wor- 
ship together one Sabbath day. " Slow enough/' 
was the reply ; " but the gracious discourse we have 
heard is just the thing to quicken us both in 
running the race that is set before us. Blessed be 
God for the gift of his ministering servants, for, 
without them and his quickening grace, we should 
be more like crawling tortoises than harts panting 
for the water-brooks.^' 

The remark appeared to me to be only too true • 
it led me, however, to estimate God's ministers 
more highly, and to be more anxious for the 
quickening influences of the Holy Spirit. From 
all these instances we may gather the fact that it 
is not easy to gain health, wealth, or knowledge; 
and that we must be diligent to use the means, if 
we would make rapid progress in our heavenward 
course. 

Reader ! how do you get on with your health ? 
What with food, clothing, lodging, fuel, and medi- 
cine, these perishable bodies of our's cost us a 
pretty sum of money ; but it will only be for a time. 
How do you bear your bodily afflictions ? Some 
think too much of them : how is it with you ? "It 
may be,'' as that good man, Brooks, has it, "they 
are not great, if you look upon them with Scripture 
spectacles. Flesh and blood many times look upon 
mole-hills as mountains, and scratches upon the 



196 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



hand as stabs at the heart; we make elephants of 
flies, and of little pigmies we frame giants. Carnal 
reason often looks upon troubles through false 
glasses. As there are some glasses that will make 
great things seem little, so there are others that 
will make little things seem great; and it may be 
that thou lookest upon thy afflictions through one 
of them. Look upon thy afflictions in the glass of 
the word ; look upon them in a Scripture dress, and 
then they will be found to be but little. He that 
shall look into a gospel-glass shall be able to say, 
^ Heavy afflictions are light, long afflictions are 
short, bitter afflictions are sweet, and great afflic- 
tions are little.' It is good to make a judgment of 
your afflictions by a gospel light and by a gospel 
rule." 

How do you get on in your circumstances ? If 
you are rich, are you thankful ? If you are poor, 
are you humble, patient, and content with God's 
dealings with you? A gracious text is that in the 
sixth chapter of Timothy, and as true as it is gra- 
cious : ^' Godliness with contentment is great gain." 
Whatever we gain is God's gift, and, if we lose all, 
^' is there not enough in God still ? Are his con- 
solations small ? The fountain is as full as ever." 
^' Oh, the depths of the riches both of the wisdom 
and knowledge of God ! how unsearchable are his 
judgments, and his ways past finding out!" Rom. 



HOW DO YOU GET ON? 197 



How do yoii get on in the way of obtaining 
knowledge ? The way to be wise is this : seek after 
such knowledge and wisdom as is best worth attain- 
ing, and endeavour to possess yourself of it in the 
best way. Follow this rule, and with God's help 
you will not fail to be wise. '' The fear of the Lord 
is the beginning of wisdom : a good understand- 
ing have all they that do his commandments :" Ps. 
cxi. 10. 

And now, how do you get on in your pilgrimage 
to the celestial city? This question is of more im- 
portance than all the rest put together. Never 
mind how much it may puzzle you; do your best 
to reply to it. If your answer be satisfactory, so 
much the better; and if not, it may set you on "re- 
deeming the time.'^ Of this be assured, that the 
health and strength of Samson, the riches of Tyre, 
Babylon, and Jerusalem, and the knowledge and 
wisdom of King Solomon, would be altogether 
worthless to you, unless, through God's grace and 
a saving faith in his Son Jesus Christ, your heart 
and your hope were set on heaven. 

Put the question, ''How do I get on?" to your- 
self under these several particulars ; answer it faith- 
fully, and then you will not regret my having put 
it to you. 



198 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



THE WRECK. 

Clear was the sky and smooth the water, when, 
ou a beautiful day, I walked on the cliffs opposite 
the sea. For some time the wind had been unfa- 
vourable for outward-bound ships, but at last it had 
changed, and the whole surface of the deep appeared 
to be adorned with masts and sails. More than two 
hundred ships of various kinds were at once visible, 
each pursuing her way through the trackless waters 
to a distant shore. 

Freighted with men and merchandise, some of these 
were bound for Ireland, some for France, some for 
America, some for the East and West Indies, some 
for golden Australia, and some for China. I watched 
them with no common attention. '^Fair breezes and 
God's blessing !" said I, as they proceeded on their 
several courses. It was a sight to be remembered. 
Crowds from the parades, the sea-beach, and the 
Downs above the cliffs, were gazing on the glowing 
scene. Hope, with sparkling eyes, was present, cheer- 
fulness was abroad, and joy was keeping holiday. 

Not many days had passed, when from the same 
place was witnessed a different scene. It was high 
water, and the sea was exceedingly rough. The 
crew of a schooner which had just discharged her 
cargo did their best to get her off. All was done 



THE WRECK. 199 



by tliem that men could do, but all was in vaiu; foi 
the strain upon the vessel was so severe that the 
moorings were pulled up and the shore-tackle 
broken. She soon broached to, and drove on to 
leeward with the sea breaking furiously over her. 

It was a sad sight to gaze on, when, in the season 
of their extremity, the captain and crew were 
dragged by ropes through the surf to land, the 
wind howling, the waters roaring, and the schooner 
driven against the sea-wall, heavily beating and 
pounding the shingle with her hull. 

Her keel could cleave the deep no more, 
For the waves had beat and bound her ; 

And she lay a wreck on the shingly shore. 
With the white foam raging round her. 

Not long could the vessel hold together, for she 
was fir-built, old, and crazy. While the anxious 
and excited spectators that crowded the shore 
looked on, she split right across the middle, her 
masts falling and her timbers parting asunder. 

As I stood gazing alone the following day on the 
part of the hull that remained on the beach, my 
attention arrested by the bulged bows, the broken 
bulwarks, and the shivered timbers partly buried in 
the shingle, the tide washed against it with great 
force, sometimes nearly breaking over it, as though 
the raging deep would not give up its prey so long 
as a rib or spar remained visible. 

"Be satisfied," said I, addressing the roaring 
ocean. "Have you not done mischief enough? — 



200 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



must your voracious and insatiable maw devour the 
last plauk of the vessel you have destroyed ?" But 
the only reply that I obtained was a splash in the 
face from the next wave that broke against the wreck. 
It just suited one of my disposition to muse on 
the shore above the broken hull whose ribs had been 
crushed, and whose bowsprit was deep bedded in 
the sea soil; for, while I was there, children came 
playfully to peep at the spectacle, well-dressed 
visitors took a hasty survey, and departed, and aged 
men stood a while with serious faces at the spot. I 
guessed their thoughts by my own. They could not 
choose but think of Him who alone can control the 
wind and the waves. '^ The sea is his, and he made 
it : and his hands formed the dry land :" Ps. xcv. 5. 

** Guide us, heavenly Pilot, guide us, 
Till the storms of life shall cease ; 
From the raging tempest hide us ; 
Bring us to the port of peace." 

Such as live upon the coast, and are accustomed 
to witness shipwrecks, regard them with less emotion 
than strangers experience y^hen gazing upon them. 
To me the scene was full of awful interest^ pressing 
on my mind various considerations, such as the 
mighty power of ocean waves, the great danger to 
which mariners are exposed, the sympathy we ought 
to feel for them, and the necessity that they, and 
we, and all God's intelligent creatures, should ever 
be looking to Him in whom alone we "live and 
move and have our being.'^ 



THE WRECK. 201 



But the wreck of a vessel may suggest to our 
minds also the wreck of a soul ; for many a soul 
that appeared to set out like a ship oo a prosperous 
voyage has been wrecked, forever wrecked, not in 
a storm, but in a calm ; not when darkness prevailed, 
and the hurricanes of the earth were raging, but when 
all was tranquil and sunbeams were shining around. 

When a ship is wrecked, there is sometimes hope 
of escape. Some friendly sail may opportunely heave 
in sight; the broken hull, dismantled and dismasted, 
may yet bear up against the storm ; or the crew, in 
the crisis of their danger, some by swimming, some on 
boards, and some on broken pieces of the ship, may 
get safe to land ; but the wreck of the soul is nothing 
less than helpless, endless, irrevocable ruin. 

No wreck, where angry Ocean's billows roll, 
Is like the wreck and ruin of a soul. 

It was long before I left the beach; and when I 
did so the ocean waves were still dashing against 
the stranded hull of the broken vessel, fastened as 
it was to the shore with a chain cable. Sobered 
and solemnized by the mournful spectacle, I walked 
away in musing meditation. '' What is man, unless 
preserved by his Almighty Maker ? At sea and on 
land he is in equal danger. Be thou my stay, 
Lord, in every storm, that my faith may not suffer 
shipwreck. Give me grace so to love and trust 
thee 

That my soul in her need, when the tempest is nigh, 
May escape 'to the Rock that is higher than I.'" 



202 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



WHAT ARE YOUR POINTS? 

It has been said that every man has a "■ strong 
corner/' the meaning of which expression is, that 
every man has a particular point or quality which 
in some degree distinguishes him from others, or 
that he has a hidden strength which circumstances 
alone make manifest. Whether this be true or not 
generally, it certainly is occasionally so in individual 
cases. 

The different points or prominent qualities among 
mankind are well worthy of our best attention, that 
we may emulate the good and avoid the evil. The 
humble and teachable pick up many a lesson that 
the proud and opinionated pass by or despise. 

One man has faith, so that he looks up to his 
Heavenly Father with such unbroken and unshaken 
trust, that, come what will, he is never stricken 
down. One is stopped in his course by mole-hills 3 
another will remove mountains of difficulty, and 
never so much as doubt the attainment of his object. 
He seems to take as his motto the text, " The Lord 
God will help me; therefore shall I not' be con- 
founded : therefore have I set my face like a flint, 
and I know that I shall not be ashamed :" Isa. 1. 7. 
Faith is the gift of God, and a precious gift it is; 



WHAT ARE YOUR POINTS? 203 



wortli praying for, watching for, and striving for. 
Do you possess it? Is it one of your points? If 
so, bappy are you. 

Another has hope in a very unusual degree, both 
in temporal and eternal things. He looks on the 
bright side of every event, and sees an oasis in every 
desert and a glittering star in the blackest sky. Not 
only is he hopeful himself, but he makes others so. 
When he appears, his eye is lit up with animation; 
and when he speaks, his words are full of encourage- 
ment. ^'The darkest night has a day;'^ ''Many a 
broken ship gets safe to land;'' "Give it up? no, 
never!" "Hope on to the end!" are words that are 
continually on his lips. He reminds his desponding 
Christian friends of the unchangeableness of the 
Saviour's love, and exhorts them not to fear the 
threatening storm. 

*'Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take; 
The clouds ye so much dread 
Are big with mercy, and shall break 
In blessings on your head." 

In this way he encourages other hearts and 
strengthens his own. While his desponding neigh- 
bours deplore the winter, he anticipates the summer; 
and when they look mournfully on the west, where 
the sun is setting to-night, he points cheerfully to 
the east, where it will rise to-morrow. If hope is 
not among your points, seek it with all your soul. 



204 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



A third possesses charitj^, or Cliristian love, that, 
mingliug with his thoughts, his words, and his 
deeds, ^'hopeth all things'' and " endureth all 
things." This is an excellent point, indeed, and as 
rare as it is excellent and inestimable. ^'I am 
afraid that he is a faulty one," said a clergymen of 
a notorious offender; "but as I have some bad 
qualities which you have never seen, so he may have 
some good ones that you have never discovered." 
Well is it said of faith, hope, and charity, or love, 
that "the greatest of these is charity." 

To know our points and to turn them to advan- 
tage, is true wisdom; to mistake them, and to un- 
dertake what we are not equal to perform, is great 
folly. 

But if "every man has a strong corner/' may it 
not be said, with equal truth, that "everyone has 
his weak side ?" The illustrations which might be 
advanced to prove the latter remark would greatly 
outnumber those that support the former observa- 
tion. There are bad points as well as good ones. 

One man is proud and vain, not considering that 
" a man's pride shall bring him low." This point 
of his character he shows in his mien and his man- 
ner, his look and his language. He walks haughtily, 
speaks in a dictatorial way, and gives himself all 
manner of airs in his silly conceit. Pride and 
vanity puff up many a heart. A proud man, like a 
fish, is easily caught, if the bait is suited to his taste. 



WHAT ARE YOUR POINTS? 205 



•^If/^ said an old fisherman, "I wanted to catcli 
one simpleton, I would liook him with a bribe; if I 
wished to catch twenty, I would net them with 
promises; but if I desired to catch a hundred, I 
would poison them with flattery." If pride is one 
of your points, the sooner you get rid of it the 
better. 

Another is deceitful, so that you are never safe 
with him. He plays different parts at different 
times; to-day he is a friend and to-morrow an 
enemy. His language before your face and behind 
your back never agree; the one is all fur, and the 
other all talon. ^'The words of his mouth are 
smoother than butter, but war is in his heart; his 
words are softer than oil, yet are they drawn swords." 
There is something so mean and pitiful in deceit, 
that it deserves to be shot at as a target and ex- 
posed to general ridicule. 

A third is selfish. He is a perfect "1, by itself, 

I," all the centre of his own circle. Selfishness is 

as a blot on his brow, palpably visible to all, though 

unseen by himself. The apparent kindness of a 

selfish man is interested, and his seeming generosity 

is only " throwing a crab to catch an apple." Of 

all human failings, selfishness is one of the most 

common, and, when carried to extreme, one of the 

most hateful. The poor may suffer, but the selfish 

man heeds it not; the houseless may shiver, but he 

wraps himself up in his own blanket and is at ease; 
18 



206 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



the hungry may perish, hut what matters that ? h« 
has enough and to spare. This is one form of self- 
ishness; but it has others that cannot be counted. 
Are you selfish ? 

Unnumber'd grateful tongues sliall bless 

That heart, where'er it goes, 
That kindles at another's joy 

And weeps for others' woes. 

In reviewing your qualities, remember that one 
good and useful point is worth more than a hundred 
that are neither good nor useful. We read in that 
instructive fable, ''The Fox and the Cat/' that, 
though the cat had but one point, it enabled her, 
on approach of the hounds, to run up a tree and to 
get out of danger, while the fox, with all his cun- 
ning and his thousand points, was overtaken by the 
dogs and torn to pieces. Bear in mind that a little 
Christian principle is better than much worldly 
shrewdness; and that faith, hope, and charity, will 
impart a thousand times more peace and joy than 
pride, deceit, and selfishness. 

Once more, what are your points ? If they are 
good, encourage them; call them out, and bring 
them into full practice, that they may be as mar- 
row to your bones ; but if they are evil, pray against 
them, strive against them, and abandon them, lest 
they soil your garments, dim your hope, oppress 
your heart, and bring you to dishonour. 



OLD HUMPHREY ON BIRTHDAYS. 207 



OLD HUMPHREY ON BIRTHDAYS. 

Now is mj time to write on this subject, if I 
mean ever to write upon it at all ; for it is my birth- 
day, and my gray hairs tell me there must needs be 
some uncertainty as to its return. An hour ago the 
postman gave his spirited double rap, and my table 
is tolerably well covered with letters and packages, 
the winged messengers of friendship and the kind 
offerings of affection. Every reader must have 
some interest in his own birthday and in that of 
his friends ; I will try, then, to be suitable in my 
remarks, and to teach both the merry and the 
mournful-hearted. 

A birthday in youth and prime is usually a sun- 
shiny season ; but as the sun of life declines the re- 
turning period brings with it more earnest thought 
and more serious feeling. An old man can hardly 
avoid looking before and behind him; and thus, 
while young people, on their birthdays, with their 
faces lit up with smiles, think only of the present, 
the aged, on such occasions, with graver counte- 
nances, reflect on the past and the future. This is 
as it should be. Age may be cheerful and yet 
thoughtful j and not to be the latter would supply a 



208 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



much more reasonable cause of regret than not 
being the former. 

A birthday is oftentimes a harvest-day of affec- 
tionate remembrances and tokens of good- will. 
Would that on this day I could give to others half 
the gratification that others have given me ! How 
kindly do I feel towards my several correspondents, 
whose communications are full of free-hearted de- 
sires for my welfare ! 

Wishing me happy hours in endless store, 
True friends, good health, all honour; nay, yet more, — 
That heaven-lit hope and God-descended peace 
Which still remains when all things earthly cease. 

Birthdays include all days in the calendar, for 
there is not one in the revolving year that is not a 
high-day and a holiday to some rejoicing heart, 
or a day of mournful recollection to some sorrowful 
spirit, as the birthday of one estimated and loved. 
Parents exult in the birthdays of their children, 
and children in those of their parents. A fond 
mother remembers with tears that it is the natal 
day of a son who is abroad, perhaps tossing on the 
billowy deep, or settled in some distant locality; 
and an affectionate father calls to mind, with a sob 
which he vainly tries to suppress, that it is the 
birthday of a dear daughter in heaven, — a day which, 
though now shrouded with gloom, used to be kept 
with festivity and rejoicing. Our birthdays while 
we are here will be remembered by ourselves, and 



OLD HUMPHREY ON BIRTHDAYS. 209 



perhaps wlien we are gone they will be borne in 
mind by others. 

Who is there that has not^ on many occasions, 
wished that he could soar towards the firmament 
and look down on the manifold pursuits and occu- 
pations of mankind ? Could I now see the yearly 
jubilee of others' birthdays, what a chequered 
scene would be spread out before me ! Hundreds 
who win their bread by daily toil are too much 
occupied in the hard, every-day duties and cares of 
life to think much of their birthdays; while others 
are altogether absorbed by the return of a season 
which brings to them so much of pleasure. 

Just now I see in my fancy what I have often 
seen in reality, (and few who have witnessed it are 
likely to forget it,) the bright, beamiug, bustling 
birthday of the sovereign, as it used to manifest 
itself at the general post-office, when mail-coaches, 
instead .of mail-carts, were in fashion. A life, a 
cheerfulness, a merriment, prevailed around, and 
the ^'birthday" was visible in every face. The pro- 
cession with horses in new harness and gay riband 
rosettes, the coachmen and guards in their flaring 
red coats, and the postmen riding before, made 
London alive. St. Martin's-le-Grand, Cheapside, 
St. Paul's Churchyard, Ludgate-hill, Fleet street, 
the Strand, and Parliament street, seemed to be 
keeping holiday. And then it was an animating 
sight, when the busy crowd assembled at night, to 

18* 



210 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



see the mails take their departure, piled up with 
leathern bags, the guards, armed with their blunder- 
busses, strapping them firmly together. As one 
says, ^^ There go the Plymouth and Canterbury 
coaches up the street, and there go the York, the 
Birmingham, and the Holyhead, down the street, 
with a dozen others, hurrying and driving along in 
different directions; coachmen and guards in their 
red coats, whips cracking, horses prancing, wheels 
clattering, horns blowing, and mail-coaches and 
mail-carts rattling over the stones — one of the 
noisiest, the busiest, and the most cheerful sights 
in all London." * 

And now rises in my memory a birthday scene, in 
which a rosy band of cottage children were the 
happy actors. It was in a dreamy nook — a worn- 
out quarry, sheltered from the hot sunbeams; a 
peaceful place, garlanded with woodbines and hang- 
ing plants, and where all day long were to be heard 
the hum of bees and songs of joyous birds. 
Around it grew straggling brambles laden with 
blackberries. There, grouped together, the happy- 
hearted children enjoyed their mimic feast, their 
acorn cups before them. Just as I looked down 
upon them from the high banks above, a sister 
wreathed her arms about the neck of her chubby- 
cheeked little brother. Amid many fair things, 
those children were the fairest. Love reigned 
amons; them, and the kiss went round. It was a 



OLD HUMPHREY- ON BIRTHDAYS. 211 



gladdening sight, for that cliildisli revel had in it a 
more real pleasure, 

A joy more sweet, and innocent, and pure, 
Than wealth can buy, or festive halls secure. 

Pleasant it is to see a bright, sparkling, lovable 
being, just mingling the girl with the woman, pre- 
paring her plans and marshalling her friends for 
her coming birthday. If she be a little interested 
in the new dress in which she is to appear, call it 
not by the ugly name of vanity. If for a season 
her heart is occupied in the varied amusements in 
which her guests are to engage, think her not of 
necessity either trifling or worldly-minded. It is an 
accredited season of rejoicing — a privileged holiday. 
We of the gray hair are not to mould the world 
after our own antiquated fashion; we are not to 
knit our brows and truss up the bodies and souls 
of the young with our own fancied forms of pro- 
priety; but rather, remembering our youthful days, 
to allow elbow-room for the more buoyant emotions 
of those who are younger than ourselves. Play, 
throbbing pulse ; beat, happy heart ; and a blessing 
light on the hours of your recreation ! Young men 
and maidens, rejoice in the season of your youth; 
but never may your buoyant birthdays unfit you for 
the graver duties of life, or hinder you in your way 
to heaven. 

Sometimes a birthday finds us recovering from 
an illness that has pulled down our strength and 



212 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



blanched our cheeks. How delightful in such a 
case, weaned with the fever-laden atmosphere of 
a sick-chamber, from the opened casement to 
breathe the morning air, to look forth with strange 
delight, and then to wander abroad ! Grateful to 
our senses are the commonest sights and sounds; 
how pleasant is the sunbeam, how balmy the breeze, 
how sweet the music of the birds ! Our upturned 
eyes are moist with grateful tears. It is our birth- 
day; again we are come forth to mingle with a 
bright and joyous world, and our hearts are filled 
with thankfulness and our mouths with praise. 

As I before intimated, aged people, even though 
of cheerful disposition, have shadowy thoughts on 
their birthdays. They find themselves a year or 
two older than they had imagined, and look grave 
at the discovery. While noting down these re- 
marks, I cannot choose but talk a little to myself. 

" And now, my soul, another year 
Of thy short life is past ; 
Thou canst not long continue here, 
And this may be thy last/' 

is very suitable language for my lip and my heart. 
I have one friend who has reached her ninety- third 
year ; but how many have I had who were beckoned 
away to another world before they had reached my 
age ! Few and far between are the friends of my 
earlier days, and those who have been called away 
greatly outnumber those that remain. 



OLD HUMPHREY ON BIRTHDAYS. 213 



Would fhat every one had always a happy birth- 
day, and that the dwelling-places of those who sit 
at the desk, labour at the loom, work in the mine, 
or wield the hammer, the saw, or the file, rung with 
grateful joy and light-hearted merriment ! Would 
that on such occasions there was every cause for 
congratulation and rejoicing, and none for regret 
and lamentation ! "It is," says one, " a poor heart 
th-at never rejoices/' and when is there a fitter 
season to rejoice than on the return of that day 
when we . came into this breathing world, to help 
each other gratefully to enjoy, patiently to endure, 
and to do His holy will who has crowned us with 
tender mercies and loving-kindnesses ? 

Birthdays are mostly kept by the happy-hearted, 
for little are they recked of by those who have 
poverty and pain, sickness and sorrow, in their 
habitations. To the outcasts of the world, the re- 
turn of the day of their birth must be rather an 
affliction than a source of joy. The ruined spend- 
thrift, the prisoner, and the felon, cannot but say 
in their hearts, " Oh that it were with me as in 
days that are past !" Yes, the unhappy set but 
little store by their birthdays, and would rather 
blot them out than remember them. Poor Job 
thought lightly enough of his, when his sons and 
his daughters were destroyed, his camels, asses, 
sheep, and oxen taken away, and his body so 
changed by sickness that his very friends did not 



214 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



know liim. What a mockery it would have been, 
in the depth of his destitution and darkness, to 
have paid him the compliment of wishing him 
"many happy returns!'' What a keen and bitter 
susceptibility must he have had of his desolate con- 
dition, when he thus spoke of his birthday ! — " Let 
the day perish wherein I was born, and the night 
in which it was said. There is a man child con- 
ceived. Let that day be darkness; let not God re- 
gard it from above. As for that night, let dark- 
ness seize upon it; let it not be joined unto the 
days of the year. Lo, let that night be solitary, 
let no joyful voice come therein. Let them curse 
it that curse the day, who are ready to raise up 
their mourning." I know not whether Job's birth- 
day came round while he was in this trouble, but 
if so, it must have been a day of darkness. It 
becomes us not, however, to despond in the hour of 
calamity j rather should we remember that it is as 
light a thing with God to lift up as to pull down ; 
for of this same Job it is said that the Lord blessed 
his latter end more than his beginning. 

I must now bring my remarks to a close. We all 
like to be esteemed by those we respect, and none 
of us have any objection to be remembered on our 
birthdays by those who have a niche in our hearts ; 
and whether the symbol of their affection or friend- 
ship assume the shape of a page of prose, a verse 
of poetry, an etching, a book-marker, a simple 



OLD HUMPHREY ON BIRTHDAYS. 215 



flower, or any other form, it is invested with the 
value that kindness always confers. Reader, what 
is the date of your birth ? Have you ever made 
inquiry whether any good man came into the world 
or went out of it on that day, that you might have 
some one to imitate ? or whether any bad man was 
born or died on that day, that you might shun his 
evil deeds ? Have you given yourself the trouble 
to ascertain whether any event has ever occurred on 
that day calculated to awaken your wonder, increase 
your piety, or call forth your thankfulness ? What 
a reproach to any one it must be to be born on the 
same date as Beveridge, Baxter, Watts, or Wesley, 
and yet be ungodly ! or on the birthdciy of a How- 
ard, a Wilberforce, or a Fry, and be hard-hearted 
and cruel ! There are many ways of turning a 
birthday to account ; and, if no better method should 
occur to you, adopt at once the following advice of 
Old Humphrey, putting it in practice on your very 
next birthday. Enjoy the present, think on the 
past, and prepare for the future. Call to mind 
your mercies, encourage thankfulness of heart, 
forgive such as have offended you, and try to make 
some aching heart happy. Hardly can I express a 
better wish for you than that which a kind corre- 
spondent has expressed for me : — 

"Many happy returns of the day of thy birth, 
Many seasons of sunshine be given; 
And may God, in his mercy, prepare thee on earth 
For a birthday of glory in heaven I" 



216 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



OLD HUMPHREY TO HIS HONOURED 

ANCIENT, ON HER NINETIETH 

BIRTHDAY. 

January 16, 1851. 

Hail ! honoured Ancient ! Once again 
I take in hand this votive pen, 
To briefly pour, as best I may, 
A stanza on your natal day. 
With ?W6, the changing scenes that fly 
Are as they were in times gone by : 
The earth is green, the heavens are blue : 
How is it, honoured friend, with you ? 

Not that I walk in pathways fair, 
And feel no pain, and know no care ; 
My share have I of shade and smart. 
But then the sunshine in my heart 
Lights up the things my eyes behold. 
And turns the seeming dross to gold. 
Such is, in truth, my onward view : 
How is it, honoured friend, with you ? 

Amid the flitting seasons past, 
The summer breeze, and autumn blast, 
How have you borne the chequered strife 
That marks this fitful, feverish life '\ 



TO HIS HONOURED ANCIENT. 217 



Has God illumed with light your ways, 
And given you tranquil nights and days? 
His hand has held me hitherto : 
How is it, honoured friend, with tjou? 

Say, does the Lord of life and love 

Look down upon you from above. 

And soothe your grief, and dry your tears, 

And dissipate your rising fears ? 

Does He his sovereign grace impart, 

To cheer with hope your fainting heart ? 

/find Him faithful, kind, and true: 

How is it, honoured friend, with you ? 

Will He, whose love has bless'd your brow 
For ninety years, forsake you now? 
No, never ! His Almighty power 
Will guard and guide you every hour. 
My hope is strong that He will spread 
A heavenly glory round your head. 
His gifts to me are like the dew : 
How is it, honoured friend, with you ? 

This prayer I fyeely would impart. 
The incense of a loving heart, 
That peaceful seasons may arise, 
And smooth your pathway to the skies. 
Be your's with thankfulness to trace 
A Saviour's all-abounding grace. 
With me his praise is ever new : 
Thus be it, honoured friend, with you I 



19 



218 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



OLD HUMPHREY ON MITIGATIONS. 

A GOOD and pleasant subject is a great advantage 
to an author. When he has to tell his reader un- 
welcome truths, and to oppose his opinions and his 
prejudices, it is sad up-hill work; but when, in a 
kind-hearted spirit, he hits on a subject in which he 
can take his reader with him, willing to be pleased 
or profited, it is like going down a gentle slope — all 
ease and effortless. Down such a slope would I now 
go, discoursing on the subject of mitigations. 

The great lexicographer tells us that a mitigation 
is an "abatement of anything penal, harsh, or 
painful." I shall apply the word as a reliever or 
lessener of the mental and bodily afflictions to 
which humanity is liable. A letter from a friend,* 
which now lies before me, has drawn my thoughts 
to this subject. Would that I could do it justice ! 
Would that I could comfort the hearts of a thou- 
sand afflicted ones, by opening their eyes to discern 
the manifold mitigations which surround them ! 
One part of the letter runs thus : — 

" Since I have been a cripple, I have become 

* The late Mr. W. F. Lloyd. 



OLD HUMPHREY ON* MITIGATIONS. 219 



wondrously leg-wise, leg-considerate, and leg-sympa- 
thizino;. This is one of the collateral advantao-es of 
lameness; but now for the mitigations. Old Hum- 
phrey must write a paper on this subject. I have 
derived much alleviation from acute pains from the 
electric chain. I get good spring- water, and take 
it freely at night; and twice in that season I take a 
cup of cocoa, having a fire in my bed-room all night. 
I have bought a pony phaeton, so that I can ride 
out daily and get fresh air. Now, if you cannot 
make a good paper on this subject, I shall think it 
your own fault, and perhaps give you an unmiti- 
gated admonition." 

Though my good friend has, in this part of his 
letter, confined himself to a few only of the things 
that minister to his comfort, in another part he 
alludes to other sources of relief, and among them 
to the kind hearts by which he is surrounded. So 
far from quailing at his conditional threat, I am 
hopefully looking forward to a ride with him in 
his pony phaeton, fearless of his "unmitigated ad- 
monition." 

Kightly considered, the subject of mitigations is 
a very consolatory one. In the days of my child- 
hood, I was once much interested in listening to the 
remarks of an American. " Our country," said he, 
"is much infested with poisonous reptiles, but we 
are not without our mitigations ; for where rattle- 
ijuakes abounjd; rattlesnake herb grows, so that when 



220 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



bitten by the snake we cliew the herb and are 
healed." This struck me at the time as a very- 
merciful provision ; but I need not pause to inquire 
into the truth of the allegation, having a much 
surer declaration in the Holy Scriptures of the 
merciful mitigations of our Heavenly Father : — 
^'Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall 
sustain thee." — " He stayeth his rough wind in 
the day of the east wind." — "No chastening for 
the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous : 
nevertheless, afterward it yieldeth the peaceable 
fruit of righteousness unto them which are exer- 
cised thereby." 

Forty years ago I knew a friend who was then in 
the full possession of all her faculties. She was 
wedded to one of the worthy of the world, who, 
sometimes, when giving a lecture on geology to 
his friends, would playfully observe, in allusion to 
his partner, who was from Cornwall, that though 
the specimens of British gems on the table were 
not without their value, he had in his possession 
a Cornish diamond of much greater value than they 
all. When I called upon her a few weeks ago, I 
found her quite blind ; but she was not without her 
mitigations. She had learned to read her Bible in 
raised letters with her finger ; she was looking for- 
ward to a glorious abode, where the Lord would be 
,her light, and her Grod her glory; and she sweetly 
observed to me, in a spirit of thankfulness, and not 



OLD HUMPHREY ON MITIGATIONS. 221 



of repining, ''At my time of life, you know, ttis 
affliction cannot be a long one." This is tlie way 
to meet our trials, to ameliorate our afflictions, to 
get all the comfort we can from our mitigations, 
and to make the best of our position. 

Soon after this interview, I visited the chamber 
of one whom for five-and-thirty years I had known 
as a trusty and faithful domestic. Heavily afflicted 
with cancer, she was, as she believed, on the very 
verge of an eternal world, but she was not without 
her mitigations ; she had kind friends and necessary 
comforts ; she was perfectly resigned to the righteous 
will of her Heavenly Father, and looked alone, as a 
sinner, for salvation to the " Lamb of God, that 
taketh away the sin of the world." I left her, 
saying to myself, " When the waves of Jordan rise 
around me, may my feet also be found on the ' Rock 
of Ages,' and my heart be fixed where alone true 
joys are to be found !" 

It was but yesterday that an account was related 

to me, by an eye-witness, of an affecting interview 

between two females ; the one being blind, and the 

other deaf and dumb. The latter was introduced 

to the former as one who had never heard a sound; 

neither music, nor the melody of birds, nor the 

voice of affection, nor the words of holy writ, had 

ever entered her ear. The blind listener to this 

account lifted up her hands in thankfulness and 

unfeigned sympathy, saying, "I have heard all 
19» 



OLD HUMPHREY S PORTFOLIO. 



these sounds/ 's and then deeply bewailed the sor- 
rows of her more afflicted sister. But now, she 
that was deaf and dumb, shaking with emotion, (for 
her eyes had been fixed on the lips of the blind 
speaker, reading the meaning of her words,) in her 
turn declared, with thankfulness, speaking with her 
fingers, that her affliction was not half so heavy as 
was supposed. ''If,'' said she, ''I have heard no 
sounds, I have been mercifully kept from the evil 
and impurity of a deceitful tongue." Thus did 
these afflicted ones diminish their trials by dwelling 
on their mitigations. 

Being ''born to trouble as the sparks fly upward," 
afflictions must and will come to us all; it becomes 
us all, then, to look to our mitigations. I take it 
for granted, reader, that you have some open or 
secret cause of sorrow ; some hope that you cannot 
attain; some fear that you cannot avoid; or some 
care that it is difficult to endure. My advice is, 
whether your" affliction be a light one or a heavy 
one, the head-ache or the heart-ache, a fractured 
limb or a wounded spirit, a sufi'ering body or a 
desponding soul, look to your mitigations. Be 
assured we are sadly overrating our burdens, and 
underrating our benefits, if we cannot say, 

Thougli round us a shower of afflictions may fall. 
Our manifold mercies outnumber them all. 

The patriarch Job sets us an excellent example 



OLD HUMPHREY ON MITIGATIONS. 223 



of falling back on our mitigations^ for he seems to 
have kept a sort of debtor and creditor account, not 
only of the present, but of the past. He looks not 
at a part of God's dealings with him, but at the 
whole, and exclaims, ^' What ! shall we receive good 
at the hands of God, and not receive evil V Are 
we doing as Job did — thankfully remembering our 
past mercies, and setting them against our present 
trials ? This, whether we adopt it or not, is a wise 
course, an upright course, and the only course we 
ought to pursue. 

Neither past mercies, present mercies, nor future 
mercies, should be forgotten in the long list of our 
mitigations ; nor should we think lightly of newly- 
discovered alleviations, professional skill, medicine 
suited to our case, kind ministerial aid, the visits 
of affection and friendship, the gentle voice that 
soothes our griefs and the kind hand that smooths 
our pillow. When our trials are sharp, it is a com- 
fort to know that they will be short, and, let the 
worst come to the worst, we can look beyond them. 
But, after all, our best mitigators will ever be 
God's word, God's promises, and God's presence. 
Having these, in all our weakness we may wage 
war with every trouble, whether it be care, poverty, 
sickness, pain, or death. 

Men, brethren, kindreds, people, tongues, and nations, 
Count up your mercies and your mitigations. 



224 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH YOU AKE 
WORTH ? 

I ONCE heard of a man — nay, lie was well known 
to me — of whom it was said, he was so rich that he 
knew not the amount of his wealth. Embarrassing 
as such a situation may be, it is the very position 
in which I now find myself. Yes, it is a truth, 
that, put down what I may, and calculate as I 
will, I do not know the full amount of my pos- 
sessions. 

Many men have larger estates than I have, and 
greater houses, and more money in the bank, and 
then they keep their carriages; but this does not 
signify. Large estates are not possessed without 
anxiety; I never buy them. Great houses are 
seldom inhabited without great cares; I never live 
in one. I can take care of all my money without 
troubling the bank to do it for me ; and I have good 
and sufficient reasons of my own for not keeping 
my carriage. If, reader, God has given you a 
grateful heart, and enabled you, in any measure, 
having food and raiment to be therewith content, 



HOW MUCH ARE YOU WORTH? 225 



bear with me a little in my light-liearted remarks, 
and give me credit for some end and object in 
making them. Haply they may be the not inap- 
propriate precursors of more weighty observations, 
convincing you that you are really richer than you 
suppose. 

When I see, as I sometimes do, the iron chests 
and tin boxes of those who have title-deeds, securi- 
ties, and other representatives of property in their 
possession, I say to myself, ^'What a comfort it is 
to me that my title-deeds require neither tin boxes 
nor iron chests !" And if I see at the bank, when 
I happen to be there, which is a rare occurrence, a 
man pulling out of his breast-pocket a huge leathern 
pocket-book, bulging out with bank notes of different 
kinds, I again indulge in my pleasantry, thinking to 
myself, " Who would carry about with him such a 
huge, lumbering, unwieldy book as that? why, I 
can contrive to carry my notes in a much narrower 
compass.'^ No small mercy it is, when regarding 
those who are better off than ourselves, to be kept 
from envying our neighbours. 

It is not quite a week since a friend kindly took 
me a drive for an hour or two in Hyde Park, at a 
time when ^'all the fashionable world" was said to 
be there; and truly if fine horses, fine coaches, fine 
footmen, and fine people can properly be considered 
a fair manifestation of the fashionable world, it 
might be said, on that occasion, to have been very 



226 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



fairly represented. Reclining in tlieir several 
vehicles, 

Eank, beauty, wit, and wealth, lolled at their ease, 
And looked around, and drank the freshening breeze. 

Accustomed as I am to common scenes, and com- 
panionizing as I do with less elevated people, I can- 
not meet with a duke on horseback followed by a 
groom much better mounted than himself, — a duchess 
showy as a full-blown peony, reclining in an open 
coronetted carriage, drawn by four beautiful grays, — 
a lord in his Stanhope in easy chat with a popular 
baronet, and a lady and her lapdog in a well-cush- 
ioned coach with bay horses and bright harness, — I 
cannot, I say, meet such personages, with a crowd of 
others of similar station, without regarding them 
(not rudely, I hope) with much interest and curi- 
osity. This was the case with me on the occasion 
to which I refer. 

It was no small part of my gratification to be able 
to see so many possessors of greatness and grandeur 
without wishing to exchange positions with them, 
and without envying the wealthiest among them. 
Willingly, had I possessed the power, would I have 
made them all ten times happier than they were. 
It suddenly struck me that the park was a public 
park, and that I, as one of the public, was one of its 
proprietors ; nor did I know that any duke, duchess, 
lord, baronet, or lady in London had a better title to 



HOW MUCH ARE YOU WORTH? 227 



it than myself. I could walk, ride, and drive in it 
as often as I chose, and see the assembled throng 
there, and partake their gratification, whenever I 
thought proper. ^^ From this time forth," said I, 
'■'■ my share in the park must be regarded by me as 
a part of my property/' 

What a defence against peevishness and repining, 
^^ envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness," is 
a contented and grateful spirit ! Where God has 
given it, he has given a treasure which we cannot 
too often acknowledge. Truly, '^ Godliness with 
contentment is great gain :" 1 Tim. vi.*6. 

The steward of a very wealthy squire (who was 
then on a sick bed, paralyzed and in pain, with little 
hope of ever rising from it) some time since took 
me over the estate on a fine, windy, sunshiny day. 
He told me the names of the farmers; he pointed 
to the hills and the valleys, the meadows, and the 
running brooks, and said that they all belonged to 
the squire. " Belong to him, poor man !'' thought 
I; ^' they belong a great deal more to me than to 
him; for I can see them, ramble among them, and 
enjoy them, while he can do neither the one nor 
the other. It seems that I am a rich man, after all. 
jMany things are common to all God's creatures, like 
the balmy air and the glowing sunshine. 

The breezes blow, the warblers sing, 
For every living, breathing thing ; 
And every bush, and every tree. 
Puts forth its leaves and buds for me." 



228 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



Now was I not justified, taking into consideration 
my enjoyment and tlie lamentable condition of the 
wealthy squire, in thinking that my share in his 
estate was greater than his own ? Oh that we were 
more alive than we are to the goodness of our 
Heavenly Father, and more ready to acknowledge 
the benefits received at his hands ! 

It is not long since I walked through a picture- 
gallery, rich in the productions of the old masters. 
I am fond of paintings, and really revelled in them. 
Among other pictures were some by the wonder- 
working pencils of Raffaelle, Carracci, and Domeni- 
chino, Panini, Poussin, and Parmigiano, Titian, 
Rubens, Guido, and Leonardo da Vinci. But who 
was the owner of these costly specimens of art, these 
happy and surprising efforts of human genius? 
Alas! one who could derive little or no pleasure 
from the possession of them, for he was blind. But 
though he had lost his sight, God had mercifully 
preserved me from the like affliction. Now, I have 
a real interest in these paintings, ten times greater 
than that of their proprietor, because I can visit 
them again and again with increased pleasure. My 
property in this picture-gallery, then, may fairly be 
added to my other possessions. 

Often have I said it, and once more will I say it 
now, that a thankful heart will always have some- 
thing to be thankful for. 

I had lingered two or three hours in the sump- 



HOW MUCH ARE YOU WORTH? 229 



tuous apartments and beautiful pleasure-grounds of 
a stately castle, before I put the question, "And 
where is the noble owner of this goodly pile ?" The 
answer was, "He is a fugitive beyond the seas. In- 
volved in debts from which it will take him years 
of thrift to extricate himself, he is a banished man, 
and cannot set his foot on the threshold of his own 
inheritance/' 

The ruined spendthrift left his native land, 
A wandering outcast on a foreign strand. 

Here, then, while its owner was an exile, the 
castle ministered to my pleasure. I visited its noble 
hall, its state-rooms, and its armory; I mounted 
its ramparts and turrets, and roamed over its lawns, 
swept as they were by the descending branches of 
towering cedars. For the time being, the edifice 
was as much mine, for all purposes of enjoyment, as 
if it had descended to me in a straight line of an- 
cestry from the days of William the Conqueror; and, 
as I may yet go again and again to that goodly for- 
tress, hardly shall I make a false entry by putting 
down my facilities of visiting it as an additional 
item to the sum of my possessions. 

I have thus attempted to show that a sunny spirit 

gilds all things around it, and that content and 

thankfulness, which are God's gifts, enable us in a 

thousand ways to get good and to defend ourselves 

from evil. The castle and the estate of the squire, 
20 



230 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



the park and the picture-gallery, are only specimens 
of unnumbered instances in which I find myself a 
gainer. I feel that T have a vested interest in all 
things that increase my comfort and my pleasure. 
The busy scenes of the city and ruralities of the 
country, the beauties of the land and the sublimity 
of the mighty deep, are all open to me, and all, 
therefore, form a part of my worldly store. If, then, 
I put my spiritual mercies to my temporal blessings, 
not forgetting the Bible, the house of God, a throne 
of grace, and the hope of glory through the abundant 
merits and mercy of Jesus Christ, well may I say, 
with emotions of thankfulness and joy, ^'1 really 
know not how much I am worth; I cannot tell the 
amount of my possessions." 

Christian reader, if God has given you a measure 
of content and thankfulness, you may approve my 
remarks; but if otherwise, I fear you will regard 
them as fanciful and foolish. Consider, however, 
how different the same landscape is when seen on a 
sunshiny day to what it appears in gloomy weather. 
Depend upon it, bright as the sun is, and gloriously 
as he lights up the earth and the heavens, he is not 
more influential than content and thankfulness are 
in gilding the gifts of our Heavenly Father. A 
quick-sightedness to perceive and a grateful heart 
to feel and acknowledge divine favours, are beyond 
price. Oh, pray for a grateful heart. 

He that sees neither the flowers of earth beneath 



HOW MUCH ARE YOU WORTH? 231 



his feet, nor the stars of heaven above his head, 
with joy, is in pitiable case. Open your eye and 
your heart, or rather ask Grod to open them, that 
you may see him as he is, the friend of sinners, and 
the bountiful bestower of all things; then praise 
will have its way, breaking forth from the lip in the 
language of the psalmist, "Bless the Lord, my 
soul; and all that is within me, bless his holy name. 
Bless the Lord, my soul; and forget not all his 
benefits:" Ps. ciii. 1, 2. "Oh that men would 
praise the Lord for his goodness, and for his won- 
derful works to the children of men :" Ps. cvii. 15. 
Take heed to this my closing remark. If once 
you are enabled rightly to regard every earthly gift 
as the gift of God, and obtain only a glimpse of the 
exceeding riches of his grace in his kindness towards 
us through Christ Jesus, you will neither know how 
rich you are, nor be able to express, even to your 
own heart, one-half the amount of your possessions. 



232 



ANTICIPATION OF HEAVEN. 

I SEE within a temple bright 
The shining ones appear, 
In sparkling robes of living light 
And crystal raiment clear ; 
And some upon the threshold stand, 
With looks of love and outstretched hand. 

They seem as when on earth a while, 

Except their shining dress ; 
And then they wear a beaming smile 
Of heavenly tenderness. 
Their love-lit eyes are plain to view ; 
Their eager hands are stretch'd to you. 

As yet you may not wing your way 

To that eternal zone; 
Your trials are not yet complete, 
Your duties are not done ; 
Perform your Saviour's kind commands, 
Lie patient in his holy hands. 

Wait but a while, and you shall soar 

To that celestial crowd, 
With songs in your Redeemer's praise 
And hallelujahs loud; 
And meet where sorrows never pain. 
With Christ and with his saints to reign. 



THE BLACKBERRY-GATHERER. 233 



THE BLACKBEREY-GATHEREK; OR, THE 
UNEXPECTED FEAST. 

Never, surely, was man more fond of a black- 
berry tban I am. With all its thorns, the bramble 
is a favourite with me. It first gives me pleasure 
with its purple stem, green leaves, and white flowers, 
and then regales me with its delicious fruit. 

It was autumn. More than half September had 
rolled awciy, and I had not plucked a single black- 
berry. I set oif to a hedge which had often fur- 
nished me with a sumptuous feast. There the 
spiky thorn formed a barrier which cattle could not 
pass, and there the bramble flourished in all its 
glory. Alas ! I was disappointed of my treat, for 
not a ripe berry could I find. 

'^Well," thought I, ^Uhough I reckoned on my 
entertainment, I must not take the matter to heart. 
True it is that I am thirsty, and very grateful 
would the juicy fruit have been to me; but I can 
do without it. Let me be thankful that I am not 
a toilworu pilgrim in the hot desert, overwhelmed 
with the dreadful announcement, ' The well is 
dry!'" 

Thus endeavouring to make the best of my little 
20* 



234 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



disappointment, L walked on, and soon after saw a 
poor fisherman coming towards me with a basket. 
The very sight of the basket encouraged both hope 
and expectation. 

'^Have you been gathering blackberries?" 
said I. 

"I have, sir,'' replied the man, "but they are 
scarce enough, at present ; by-and-by there will be 
enough of them." 

As the man spoke, he removed the lid of his bas- 
ket, that I might see his store ; and a goodly store 
it was ; some of the berries were certainly red, but 
the greater part of them were black. 

" Do you sell them ?" said I. 

"No, sir," said he, "I never sell them; I get 
them for my wife, who is uncommonly fond of a 
blackberry pudding," 

"That does not at all surprise me," said I. 
" The blackberry is good, eat it how you will. It 
is good cooked or uncooked, in a pudding or a pie, 
plucked from the bush, or picked from the basket. 
May I have a few ?" 

" As many as you like, sir," was his frank reply ; 
so I set to work picking the tip-toppers from among 
them, taking as many as I chose, dropping a six- 
pence into the basket for the man's children, if he 
had any, and feeling very thankful for so unex- 
pected a feast. 

" But why have you put these two sprays in your 



THE BLACKBERRY-GATHERER. 235 



basket?" said I; ^^why do you not pull the berries 
offtbem?'^ 

" They are for my wife, sir/' said he; "I never 
ge blackberrying without getting a spray or two of 
the best I can find for her ; she is so uncommonly 
fond of them. You can't think, sir, how she likes 
the sprays." 

•^ That is right/' said I, " and I hope you will 
never give up so excellent a custom. This is the 
way to make a wife love you, for kindness begets 
kindness all the world over. Those two sprays are 
worth a whole basketful of blackberries. Of 
the pudding you will most likely have your share, 
but the sprays will be your wife's, and her's alone." 

For some time the poor fisherman kept shaking 
up his basket that I might pick out the best of its 
contents, while I kept talking to him, not knowing 
which was the better pleased of the two. To me it 
was a double feast; much did I enjoy the black- 
berries, but still more the man's affection for his 
wife. 

This unpretending, gentle deed, on the part of 
the poor fisherman, was an occurrence that just 
suited me. While the Sir Walter Raleighs of the 
world gallantly spread their costly mantles in the 
mire that royal feet may not be incommoded, and 
while such courtier-like actions are handed down to 
the admiration of posterity, be it mine to record 
the less questionable kindnesses of common life 



236 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



that occur in the sphere of my own observation. 
And forgive me, ye admirers of Sir Walter, if I 
rank the affection of a poor man for his wife higher 
than I do the questionable attentions of a courtier 
to his queen. 

At a time when the violence of drunken hus- 
bands towards their wives is, alas ! so much on the 
increase, justly calling forth public indignation, it is 
pleasant to meet with a case of a different kind. It 
was on the stile on the height above the vale of 
Ecclesbourne, Hastings, that the poor fisherman 
rested his basket while I revelled in the banquet 
it provided for me. I am not likely to forget the 
place, the fisherman, the basket, or the blackberries. 

Hastings, with thy parades and pleasant path- 
ways, I owe thee much ; for, beneath His indulgent 
care who has spread out the waters with his hand, 
spangled the sl?y with stars, and studded the 
bramble with blackberries, thy breezes have given 
me health, thy hills and dales added to my enjoy- 
ment, and thy Sabbath-heralds of mercy ministered 
largely to my peace. A blessing from above light 
on thy inhabitants, thy mariners, and the stranger 
sojourning within thy gates, from St. Leonard's to 
Ecclesbourne, from the windmills to the sea, and 
from the barons of the Cinque Ports to the house- 
hold of the poor fisherman with his basket of 
blackberries ! 



SWEET AND SOOTHING. 237 



SWEET AND SOOTHINa. 

If in this world there are many things that are 
harsh and irritating, there are also many which are 
sweet and soothing; nor can we do better than 
garner up the latter in our memory as anodynes to 
the daily cares that ruffle our temper and destroy 
our repose. The mind is more peaceful in con- 
templating a calm than in dwelling on a storm, and 
we benefit ourselves more by reflecting on the meek- 
ness of the lamb than in pondering on the ferocity 
of the wolf. 

How sweet and soothing it is at the end of a day 
of care, passed in the battle of life and among the 
hard ways of men, to find ourselves once more in 
the calm quietude of a domestic home, solaced by 
the soft voices and-the kindly deeds of those we 
truly love ! It is as an oasis in the desert to the 
pilgrim, or as the gentle breeze and cup of cool 
water to the thirsty and toilworn traveller. 

It steals the sting from every care. 

The smart from every wound, 
When love and tenderness prevail, 

And gentle deeds abound. 

It is said that, in the ^'Kepos du Berger," or 



238 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



Shepherd's Rest, a hollow cleft in the Col de Julien, 
one of the Central Alps, where once existed a little 
colony of pious Vaudois, there is now scarcely a 
trace of home and habitation. The long grass and 
wild weeds grow freely there, and the lark makes 
her nest among them, and sings. There is something 
sweet, nay, very sweet, in the lark building her nest 
in the ruined homes of a bygone generation of 
pious people, taking up, as it were, the song to her 
Maker where man had laid it down, and thus 
practically proclaiming the words of the last verse 
of the last of David's psalms, '^ Let every thing that 
hath breath praise the Lord." 

There is often much that is sweet and soothing 
to be obtained from the outward creation, when the 
mind is in such a frame that it can take of temporal 
things and turn them to eternal purposes. It was 
thus with me the other day when walking in the 
open fields. I came suddenly upon an old blasted 
elm-tree, that had no green leaf upon it, and only 
one branch; but that one, aftir striking out from 
the stem, abruptly altered its direction and pointed 
to the clouds. "A lesson for me in my age I" cried 
I; ''while I have an arm, a hand, a finger, yea, 
while I have my being, oh, may the last desire of 
my heart, like the remaining bough of the blasted 
tree, be still found directed to the skies !" 

Hardly can we forget the sweet and soothing in- 
fluence which sometimes steals upon the mind when 



SWEET AND SOOTHING. 239 



witnessiug children iu their childish sports. The 
merry laugh, the joyful spirit, the tender care shown 
towards the youngest of the group, the simple 
sources of their gratification, and the love that binds 
them together, all seem to read a lesson to the 
Wfinkled brow and careworn heart of man. Why 
cannot we, like children, be contented with little ? 
Why cannot we all love one another? 

Few things are more sweet and soothing than a 
walk in the open air after an illness that has long 
confined us within doors. Pain has subdued us and 
fever has pulled us down, but we begin to take 
heart and hope. With a pale cheek and a languid 
frame, clothing ourselves for the occasion, we venture 
for the first time abroad. Leaning on our stick, 
feeble and tottering, we proceed, wondering at our 
temerity, till, all at once, oil turning the brow of the 
hill, the fresh breeze salutes us, the pleasant sun- 
beam cheers us, and the green fields stretching out 
before us greatly minister to our delight. AVe feel 
as he felt who was t^ld to take up his bed and walk. 
We know that the mighty hand of God is upon us 
for good. Our hearts melt within us at the re- 
membrance of his mercy, and with swimming eyes 
and a faltering tongue we stammer out his praise. 

"Thy hand alone, Almighty Lord, 
Restored our fleeting breath ; 
Kenew'd our strength, and led us forth 
From sickness and from death." 



240 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



Sometimes^ without an intention on either part^ 
an alienation takes place between Christian friends, 
to the great grief of both; and, oh, how sweet and 
soothing it is to find out at last that the whole 
originated in a mistake, a mere misunderstanding, 
and that, in reality, after all the bitterness and sor- 
row occasioned thereby, there never was at the bot- 
tom of the crucible of each others' hearts any thing 
but Christian love and Christian kind u ess ! 

Who has not, in the deep slumbers of the night, 
been under the dominion of some terrible dream ? 
Some dreadful danger is at hand, from which there 
is no escape. Some fault has been committed by 
us, overwhelming us with shame and confusion; or 
some long-dreaded evil has come upon us, that in- 
volves us in irrevocable i-uin. Sweet and soothing 
it is, indeed, in such a fearful crisis, to awake and 
find it nothing but a dream. Instead of distress, 
and terror, and despair, all is joy and thankfulness. 
He, who neither sleepeth nor slumbereth, has kept 
us through the night, restored our faculties for the 
day, and put a new song in our mouth, even praise 
and thanksgiving to God. 

After the bereavement of a dear relative and 
friend, when the sorrowing heart has raised an 
ensign of rebellion against its Almighty Maker, 
calling in question his inscrutable decrees, and re- 
fusing to be comforted, there is something inexpres- 
sibly sweet and soothing, when, subdued by sorrow. 



SWEET AND SOOTHING. 241 



our rebellious thouglits and idle feelings die witliin 
us, and we are enabled by divine grace to smile 
amidst our tears and say, ''I know, Lord, that 
thy judgments are right, and that thou in faithful- 
ness hast afflicted me :" Ps. cxix. 75. Oh that we 
could always seek this solace in our bereavements, 
instead of madly doing battle against the Lord of 
hosts ! for " who hath hardened himself against him, 
and hath prospered ?" Job ix. 4. 

Who, when in the flood of affliction the waters 
appeared to go over his soul, or when in the fiery trial 
the furnace has seemed to be seven times hotter 
than usual, has lighted, seemingly by accident, on 
that heart-sustaining text of Scripture — " When thou 
passest through the waters, I will be with thee ; 
and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee : 
when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not 
be burned ; neither shall the flame kindle upon 
thee : for I am the Lord thy God, the Holy One of 
Israel, thy Saviour:'^ Isa. xliii. 2, 3 — without find- 
ing and feeling it to be sweet and soothing? In 
such a season the consolation comes, " not as the 
word of men, but as it is in truth, the word of God :" 
1 Thess. ii. 13. 

Such are some of the sweet and soothing ingre- 
dients in the cup of our existence; but sweeter, per- 
haps, and more soothing and encouraging than all, 
is the joyous moment when the saddened soul of a 
Christian man, suddenly enfranchised from doubts 
21 



242 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



and darkness and the fear of death, temporal and 
eternal, is enabled by faith fully to believe and 
exult in that glorious declaration of his Redeemer: 
"I am the resurrection and the life; he that be- 
lie veth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he 
live : and whosoever liveth and believeth in me 
shall never die:" John xi. 25, 26. Thus set at 
liberty, the newly-awakened soul springs upward in 
a path the eagle has not known, full of light, and 
life, and immortality. 

" 'Tis something like the burst from death to life ; 

From the grave's cerements to the robes of heaven; 
From sin's dominion, and from passion's strife, 

To the pure freedom of a soul forgiven; 
Where all the bonds of death and hell are riven, 

And mortal puts on immortality; 
Where Mercy's hand hath turned the golden key, 

And Mercy's voice hath said, ' Rejoice ! thy soul is free !' " 



MOODY MINDS AND SUNNY SPIRITS. 243 



MOODY MINDS AND SUNNY SPIRITS. 

There are moody-minded Christians, naturally 
and habitually desponding. Bodily afflictions and 
worldly trials bow them down. Though true dis- 
ciples of Christ, they are under the bondage of 
darkness and fear. With them joy is only an oc- 
casional visitor, sorrow a constant companion. The 
blue heavens and the beauties of creation neither 
charm their senses nor soften their souls. The 
world is regarded by them too literally as a '' waste- 
howling wilderness," and mankind as moths flutter- 
ing round a lighted taper, or as thoughtless beings 
sporting on the edge of a fearful precipice. They 
seem to think that man's mission is to mourn over 
his transgressions, to ponder on the judgpients of the 
Lord, and to alarm their fellow-sinners of the wrath 
that is to come. They too frequently pass by what 
is encouraging in God's holy word, and pore and 
ponder over the darlier dispensations of the Al- 
mighty. Many are the men of this description, 
and such a man was Amos Dow. 

There are sunny-spirited followers of the Re- 
deemer, who are ever disposed, with sparkling eyes 
and beating hearts^ to rejoice in God's word and 



244 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



God's works. Wherever they are, a se.nse of good- 
ness and mercy is with them. Revelation and 
creation both minister to their joy, for in both, to 
them, the same Almighty hand is visible. They 
see, or think they see, in the sunny glow, the 
blooming flower, and the sparkling stream, the 
beauty of love, the reflected smile of their indul- 
gent Heavenly Father. The timbrel is ever in their 
hands, and the burden of their song is, ''0 come, 
let us sing unto the Lord; let us make a joyful 
noise to the Rock of our salvation:" Ps. xcv. 1. 
Men of this cast are sometimes seen, and such a 
man was Urban Lee. 

The meeting of two such men seemed hardly 
desirable; for what sympathy could there be be- 
tween them? What qualities could attract them, 
or what links bind them together? They did, how- 
ever, meet, and at first, as might have been expect- 
ed, one shrunk from the other, as a needle recoils 
from the opposing end of the magnet : Amos con- 
sidering the joyousness of LTrban as inconsistent 
with the deep solemnity of holy things, and L^rban 
regarding the gloom of Amos as an unamiable ex- 
hibition of the Christian character. 

Wondrous are the workings of the human mind 
and the influence of Christian principle over hu- 
man aff"ections ! Both Amos and Urban, different 
as they were in other respects, had much of that 
Christian charity which "beareth all things, bo- 



MOODY MINDS AND SUNNY SPIRITS. 245 



lievetli all things, liopeth all things, euduretli all 
things;" so that, when they again met, the exercise 
of this grace led them to regard each other with 
more forbearance. Amos now soon discovered that 
Urban was not the light, surface-character which 
he had taken him to be, but that his soul magnified 
the Lord, and truly rejoiced in God his Saviour. 
Nor was Urban Lee slow to perceive that the ha- 
bitual gloom of Amos Dow arose not from "discon- 
tent, or a bad temper, but from a godly sorrow for 
sin and a deep conviction of his own unworthiness. 
But not only did Amos and Urban do each other 
justice; they began, also, to take themselves to task 
for not possessing the qualities they could not but 
estimate in each other. The spirit of thankfulness 
which Amos saw in Urban reproved his own de- 
spondency, so that he fervently sought at the throne 
of grace that the language of his heart might be, 
" give thanks unto the Lord ; for he is good : 
for his mercy endureth forever:" Ps. cxxxvi. 1. 
The advantage on the part of Urban was equally 
great; for, feeling that he could lay no claim to 
that deep abhorrence of sin and jealous watchfulness 
over himself which was so strikingly set forth by 
Amos, he became anxious to profit by the example 
set before him. He began to inquire of himself 
whether his habitual cheerfulness was a mere ani- 
mal impulse, or an emanation of true thankfulness 

to his loving Lord. 

21* 



246 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



Christians of the most opposite characters may 
greatly benefit each other, by avoiding each other's 
failings and striving after each other's graces. It 
was so in the friendship of Amos and Urban. Had 
the secret thoughts of the heart of Amos been made 
known in words, they might have been expressed in 
the following manner: — 

^' How is it, after partaking of so many mercies, 
that I* have been satisfied in praying to God with- 
out praising him? How is it that for so many 
years I should have been blind to the grace of 
thankfulness ? The language of David was, ' I will 
praise thee, Lord, with my whole heart :' Ps. 
ix. 1 3 and here is this Urban always rejoicing, while 
I am always mourning. I am guilty in this thing j 
truly I have sinned against the Lord." And then 
came the prayer, '^ Make me more thankful for the 
hope that is in me, through Christ. Lord, open 
thou my lips, and my mouth shall show forth thy 
praise.'^ 

The reflections of Urban Lee, -though of a difl^'er- 
ent kind, were not less profitable. " Have a care. 
Urban," thought he to himself, 'Mest you mistake 
your cheerful disposition for God's grace. Rejoice 
with trembling, Mark the humiliation of mind, 
the godly fear, the heart-searching integrity, of 
Amos Dow, and let it lead you to more watchful- 
ness and care." Thus was Urban humbled with a 
sense of his inferiority, as a Christian made more 



MOODY MINDS AND SUNNY SPIRITS. 247 



grateful for liis mercies, and rendered more desirous 
to be found faithful in liis heavenly calling. 

Thus established in each other's regard, every 
day Amos and Urban became more united in 
Christian fellowship, and more truly serviceable to 
each other : Urban shedding a sunbeam of cheer- 
fulness on the moody mind of Amos Dow, and the 
latter imparting a deeper tone of piety to the sunny 
spirit of Urban Lee. 

Christians, expect not, hope not, desire not, your 
fellow-pilgrims to be the counterparts of yourselves. 
He who, rich in mercy, has called so great a variety 
of men to be fellow-partakers of the gospel of Christ 
and fellow-heirs of the kingdom of heaven, can so 
move the hearts of his people that their different 
graces shall be for each other's good and his glory. 
Go on your way, then, not only loving your gracious 
Lord, but also loving one another; bearing each 
other's burdens, forgiving each other's trespasses, 
avoiding each other's faults, and emulating each 
other's graces. 



248 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



HASTE TO THE CKOSS. 

More than three thousand summers and winters 
have visited the earth since Moses raised, by divine 
command, the brazen serpent in the wilderness. 
Since then kingdoms have risen and fallen, and the 
twelve tribes of the children of Israel been scat- 
tered into all lands. Prophets have prophesied; 
the Lord of life and glory has suffered on the cross; 
and apostles have borne witness to the truth, sealing 
their testimony with their blood. But not yet has 
that brazen serpent erected in the wilderness lost its 
signification. It was but the type, the symbol, of 
what was to take place in after years ; for, " as 
Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even 
so must the Son of man be lifted up, that whosoever 
believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal 
life:" Johniii. 14, 15. 

If the serpents of the wilderness stung their 
thousands, the serpents of sin have stung their 
ten thousands. The whole race of Adam have 
been bitten. ^^All have sinned," and the right- 
eous sentence of the Eternal has gone forth, " The 
soul that sinneth, it shall die." To the cross, 
sinner, to the cross ! The Son of man is lifted 
up ! the Saviour of the world is the only cure. 



HASTE TO THE CROSS. 249 



To the cross, without delay, ye high-minded and 
proud, for your disease is deadly and your danger 
imminent. " Pride goeth before destruction, and a 
haughty spirit before a fall :" Prov. xvi. 18. The 
pride of your hearts has deceived you; ye are 
bitten, and the fiery venom is flowing in your 
veins. " Though thou exalt thyself as the eagle, and 
though thou set thy nest among the stars, thence 
will I bring thee down, saith the Lord :'^ Obad, 4. 

" Vain-glorious sinner, let this truth suflSce, 
The cross once seen is death to every vice ; 
Else He that hung there suflfer'd all his pain, 
Bled, groan'd, and agonized, and died, in vain." 

To the cross, ye bruised and broken, who, know- 
ing your disease and danger, are smiting on your 
breasts, and crying aloud, ''■ God be merciful to me 
a sinner." To you, sin is exceedingly sinful ; but 
there is balm in Gilead, and there is a physician 
there, and both will be found at the cross. Your 
plague will be stayed, your leprosy will be healed, 
and the venom of your serpent-bite be taken away. 
''To the Lord our God belong mercies and forgive- 
ness, though we have rebelled against him :" Dan. 
ix. 9. To the cross ! " Seek ye the Lord while he 
may be found, call ye upon him while he is near :" 
Isa. Iv. 6. 

To the cross, ye covetous and worldly-minded, who 
bow down to mammon and worship wealth. Know 
ye not that "the love of money is the root of all 



250 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



evil "? The fangs of the serpent, sin, have infected 
you from the crown of the head to the sole of the 
foot. The herbs of the field cannot heal you, the 
waters of the river cannot cleanse you. Every 
other way is hedged up; you must renounce your 
worldly-mindedness, and hasten to the cross. Seek, 
and ye shall yet find mercy. 

To the cross, ye careless ones, who know not the 
mortal malady with which you are seized. There is 
madness in your mirth and weakness in your appa- 
rent strength. The time is short, and you have 
need to pass the time of your sojourning here in 
fear. Away to the cross ! If you say that you have 
no sin, you deceive yourselves, and the truth is not 
in you ; but if you confess your sins, God is faithful 
and just to forgive you your sins, and to cleanse you 
from all unrighteousness. 

To the cross, ye unbelievers and scoffers, lest ye 
be mocked when your fear cometh. You, too, have 
been sin-bitten, and the malignant poison, if not 
counteracted, will bring about your eternal wo. 
The word of God is true, whether believed or 
doubted; and death, and judgment, and heaven, 
and hell, are realities that cannot be scoffed away. 
Cover your sins, and ye shall not prosper; confess, 
and forsake them, and ye shall find mercy. The 
cross is your only refuge. Remember that the Lord 
cometh as a thief in the night; and what if he 
should find you unprepared ? 



HASTE TO THE CROSS. 251 



To the cross, ye bold blasphemers, who give up 
yourselves to work iniquity with greediness, fearing 
neither God nor man, and glorying in your shame ; 
for why should ye perish in your sins ? Remember 
that the day of the Lord cometh as a thief in the 
night, and while you are saying, Peace and safety, 
sudden destruction may come upon you. The 
serpent, sin, has bitten you without mercy, and 
the contagion is raging in your hearts. But look 
to the cross : " For the grace of God that bringeth 
salvation has appeared to all men, teaching us 
that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we 
should live soberly, righteously, and godly, in 
this present world, looking for that blessed hope, 
and the glorious appearing of the great God and 
our Saviour Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us 
that he might redeem us from all iniquity, and. 
purify unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of 
good , works :'^ Titus ii. 11-14. To the cross, 
without delay, for every hour is an hour of des- 
perate danger. 

To the cross, ye hypocrites and self-righteous; 
for ye have been deeply bitten, and have need to 
fear the bitter pangs of eternal death. Without 
aid your hope shall perish, and your trust be as a 
spider's web. If not cured by the blood shed on 
the cross, your end must be weeping and gnashing 
of teeth. A wo is pronounced against you, fur 
ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which, indeed. 



252 OLD Humphrey's portfolio. 



appear beautiful outward, but are within full of 
dead men's bones and all uncleanness. But there 
is yet hope even for you, " for the Son of man is 
come to seek and to save that which was lost :" 
Luke xix. 10. Abhor yourselves in dust and ashes, 
and hasten to the cross, for He who hung there is 
''able to save them to the uttermost that come unto 
God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make inter- 
cession for them :" Heb. vii. 25. 

To the cross, ye benighted and blindfolded 
Israelites, whose eyes the fulfilment of prophecy 
has failed to open. To the cross, ye turbaned and 
crescented Mohammedans, followers of a false pro- 
phet and blind guide. To the cross, ye idolatrous 
pagans, who bow down to images of wood and stone. 
And to the cross, ye backsliding sinners, whatever 
may be the sum of your transgressions. You are 
bitten by the fiery serpent, sin, and the cross of 
Christ is your only cure. The brazen serpent 
healed the wounded body; Christ restores the sin- 
stricken soul. The brazen serpent added to the 
days of him who gazed thereon; but the life of 
Him who hung on the cross is a death unto sin, a 
new birth unto righteousness, a sure and certain 
hope of heavenly glory, and an unfailing promise 
of a life that shall endure forever. 

THE END. 



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